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I^iotDgraphic 

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23  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WiiSTiR,N.Y.  14SM 

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v\ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

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Collection  de 
microfiches. 


CaiMdian  Inttitut*  for  Historical  Microroproductiom  /  Institut  canadion  da  microraproductiont  historiquas 


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Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Notet  tachniquas  at  bibliographiquas 


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1 
ti 


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Les  pages  totalement  ou  partieliement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  una  pelure, 
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obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmA  au  taux  de  rAduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


J 


2tX 


30X 


12X 


16X 


»X 


aAX 


2tX 


32X 


"^^     .^TS»i|»m 


Th«  copy  filmed  h»n  has  b««n  r«produe«d  thanks 
to  th«  ganaroaity  of: 


L'axamplaira  film*  fut  raproduit  grica  A  la 
g^nArositi  da: 


Univereity  of  Windsor 


University  of  Windsor 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
posalbia  consldaring  tha  condition  and  laglblllty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  In  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacif Ications. 


Laa  Imagaa  sulvantaa  ont  4ti  raproduitas  avac  la 
plua  grand  soin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattatA  da  l'axamplaira  film*,  at  •n 
conformity  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  da 
flimaga. 


Original  coplaa  In  printad  papar  covara  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  Impraa- 
aion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  coplaa  ara  fllmad  baglnning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  Impras- 
slon.  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  llluatratad  Impraaaion. 


Laa  axamplalraa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
paplar  aat  imprimia  sont  filmto  an  comman9ant 
par  la  pramlar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnMra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impraaalon  ou  d'iliuatratlon,  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  aalon  la  caa.  Toua  las  autras  axamplairas 
originaux  sont  filmis  an  commanpant  par  la 
pramlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impraaalon  ou  d'illuatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  damlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microfloha 
ahall  contain  tha  aymbol  •-»•  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  ▼  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appllaa. 


Un  daa  aymbolas  suivanta  apparaftra  sur  is 
darnlAra  imaga  da  chaqua  microflcha,  salon  la 
caa:  la  aymboia  -^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE  ",  ia 
aymbola  ▼  aignifia  "FIN". 


plataa,  charta.  ate.,  may  ba  fllmad  at 
diffarant  raductlon  ratloa.  Thoaa  too  larga  to  ba 
antlraly  Includad  In  ona  axpoaura  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  In  tha  uppar  laft  hand  comar.  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framaa  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  cartaa.  planchas,  tabiaaux,  ate,  pauvant  Atra 
fiimAa  i  daa  taux  da  rMuction  diff Arants. 
Loraqua  la  documant  aat  trap  grand  pour  Atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clichA,  il  aat  filmA  A  partir 
da  I'angla  aupAriaur  gaucha,  da  gaucha  A  droita, 
at  da  haut  an  baa,  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'lmagaa  nAcaasaira.  Laa  diagrammas  suivanta 
IHuatrant  la  mithoda. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

,■*. 

4 

S 

6 

THE  LIFE 


OF' 


St.  Francis  de  Sales 


BY 


ROBEKT  ORNSBY,  M.A. 


P.   J.    Kenedy   and    Sons 

PBINTKRS  TO  THB  HOLY  APOSTOLIC  SBB 

No.  ^A  BARCI.AY  STRK«T,   N.    Y. 


t  ^ 


CONTENTS. 


X*  Kuly  ttfc  and  •dnoillon  of  nrmeli  de  SaIm  1 

IL  Bit  Tooatioii  to  the  eocledutiod  itate,  ■ad  fband»- 

Uou  of  the  Confraternity  of  the  Holy  Crow  .    10 

nL  Hie  miision  in  the  Chftbhde;  iU  ewly  difficnltiea     .    17 
IV.  Onduel  change  in  the  itatr  of  affidn,  and  final 

ooaTersionoftheChablaia 88 

T  Appointment  of  Francis  de  Sale*  to  the  ooadjntor- 

•hip  of  Genera;  his  Tisit  to  Rome  .       .    57 

TI.  Foundation  of  **  tho  Holy  Honse  ;**  Visit  to  Parie     .    81 
TH  Franeb  de  Sales  as  Bishop  of  GenoTa  .       .    78 

nn.  Visit  of  Francis  de  Sales  to  Dijon  ;  his  direction  of 

Jane  Frances  de  Cbantal       ...  .81 

IX.  Oipudsation  of  the  Order  of  the  Visitation      .  108 

X  Foundation  of  the  Florimontane  Academy;  his  Tre^ 

tises  of  The  Iniroduetim  and  The  Love  tfOod        117 
XL  Vldt  to  Fluris  with  the  Cardinal  of  Saroy;  last  yean 

ofFranoiBdeSalAo  lie 

Xn.  Death  of  IVanolad»  Sales  iif 

XIZLCharaoterofStFffaabitdoSalsa     .  l« 


v\ 


'47/52 


'it 


% 


^t 


PEEFACl. 


QoD  B«nr  makei  two  tfaingi  alik«.  It  ii  «■■ 
of  the  pri?ilegei  of  Omnipotence  to  ihow  thaty  in 
adhering  to  the  laws  which  It  hai  Itielf  created, 
it  it  ttill  those  kiwi*  Marter.  We,  on  the  other 
handy  mually  play  the  part  of  a  machine.  We 
can  hat  repeat  ounelyef,  and  he  the  predie  eopy- 
isti  of  our  own  feehly-conceiTed  and  defecti?elj* 
executed  originab.  We  multiply  repetitiona  of 
our  worki  with  the  lervile  accuracy  of  a  me- 
chanical apparatua.  We  fint  derise  hy  the  aid 
of  the  line,  the  rule,  and  the  aquare  i  and  then 
we  can  but  return  again  and  again  w  our  fint 
pattern,  ▼arying  it  only  throuj^h  infirmity,  and 
counting  ourselTet  moct  sucoetsfiil  when  we  have 
reproduced  it  with  a  moft  pamfiil  geometric  mi- 
nutencM. 

But  He  who  created  the  world  and  the  lawa 
within  whole  limiti  we  toil  ii  ai  infinitely  laried 
in  the  detaili  of  Hb  worki  ai  thoie  works  them- 
lelvei  are  infinite  in  number.  The  itara  diifer 
taa  eae  another  in  gloiy.     Of  the  UMOwited 


mMttofiflirm^BotwDnsalilnb  laalltht 
bewildflfiaf  otjiiads  of  the  \mwm  of «  fbi«it»  orm 
onrooaiM  peiteptioni  can  dotoet  loaio  4glU  fi^ 
rbtkiiif  in  fomi.  Ertrj  fettura  in  natnio^  fron 
•n  Alpine  pvadpiee  to  n  eEyitaUiied  fingmont,  if 
nnliko  anj  other.  SuefaiithenlijMoftliewiidoBi 
of  God  in  the  enation  of  the  organiied  uniTene. 

The  Mune  myiterioni  tariety  ia  found  to  pr» 
fail,  not  only  in  onr  own  eountenaneea  and  figures, 
in  onr  intelleeti  and  emotiona,  aa  we  are  by  nature, 
but  in  the  moat  perfect  worka  of  DiTine  Gh»ee» 
It  ia  eurioua  to  think  how  different  the  "Sainti** 
are  from  what  they  would  haTo  been  if  they  had 
been  all  faahiooed  on  a  type  invented  by  human 
ingenuity.  It  makea  one  imile  to  think  what 
ringnlar  phenomena  would  have  been  turned  out 
from  a  humanly-conducted  laboratoiy,  when  con- 
trasted with  the  actual  Saints,  such  aa  Almighty 
God  has  Himself  made  them.  In  matters  of  right 
and  wrong,  atrictly  speaking,  we  have  all  of  ui 
been  taught  by  Almighty  God;  and  consequently 
our  h$mhid§al  of  a  *'  Saint**  implies  the  presence 
of  all  Tirtnea  in  the  heroic  degree.  But  when  we 
eome  to  the  outward  clothing  which  this  heroic 
sanctity  ahould  wear,  it  ia  certain  that  if  we  had 
the  work  to  do,  we  ahould  fiibricate  Saints  aftei 
a  fraUon  wonderfully  unlike  that  which  haa  of* 


I 


PBBFAOB.  S 

tiB  beoi  adopted  by  Eternal  Wisdon .  No  donbt 
we  thould  produce  a  good  many  varietiei,  ac- 
cording to  our  national  and  personal  ideas  of  the 
KmKoictiffa$6v,^^**  the  good,  the  beautiful,  and  the 
«rue.**  The  Englishman's  Saint  would  be  different 
from  the  Frenchman's,  and  the  Frenchman's  from 
the  German's  or  the  Italian's ;  and  all  these  again 
from  the  Negro's,  or  the  Saint  of  the  Japanese. 

Still,  it  may  be  assumed  as  an  undoubted 
truth,  that  we  are  generally  more  or  less  sur- 
prised to  find  that  the  emtemalt  of  sanctity  are 
so  different  from  those  which  we  should  hare 
anticipated.  With  all  that  we  say — and  believe 
also— on  the  subject  of  "  hidden  Saints,"  and 
of  the  essentially  retiring  and  modest  nature  of 
sanctity,  there  are  few  persons  who  do  not  ex- 
pect that  the  heroic  virtue  of  a  real  Saint  should 
show  itself  in  some  quiet  way  or  other,  so  as 
to  be  cognisable  by  an  ordinary  Christian  of  fair 
good  sense  and  piety.  Still  more  do  we  expect 
that  Saints  shall  have  nothing  about  them  which, 
as  the  saying  is,  shall  **  run  into  us."  We  look 
for  iuch  an  absence  of  infirmities  in  those  things 
which  are  solely  and  entirely  natural,  that  the 
Saint  may  at  once  interest  and  please  the  Chris- 
tian, and  silence  the  sUly  ill-nature  of  the  un« 
beli«Tar* 


11 


I 


W1mb9  thfB»  w«  tan  to  ih«  Mtiud  lifM  €f  tb« 
fldaliy  it  ii  ftiiking  to  find  how  leldom  they  hk^^ 
hma  nupeeted  to  be  Sainti  e?en  by  the  general  mk 
of  good  Githolici,  and  ttill  less  by  the  common 
erowd*  Sonotimea  their  extraordinaiy  gracei  have 
been  known  to  ao  few,  that  it  may  be  aaid  that  they 
pere  almoit  literally  unknown.  So  far  as  the  ex- 
temali  of  life  were  concerned,  they  have  been  for 
the  moat  part  like  other  men.  Orace  left  nature, 
in  all  thingi  but  tin,  pretty  much  aa  it  would  have 
been  if  they  had  been  nothing  more  than  sim- 
ply good  Christiana.  And  accordingly  they  hare 
taried  from  one  another  in  just  the  same  varie^ 
which  preTaib  among  those  who  are  not  Sainta. 
Not  only  their  circumstances,  rank,  and  influence 
have  ^*jen  very  different  in  different  cases,  but 
they  haye  been  gifted  with  yery  different  degrees 
of  what  we  may  call  **  attractiveness,*'  as  other 
persons  so  singularly  differ  in  that  peculiar  gift. 
Nor  is  it  any  disparagement  to  the  perfection  of 
the  work  of  God  in  them,  that  one  Saint  is  of 
such  a  character  as  to  attach  to  his  memory  a  fat 
larger  number  of  devout  clients  than  can  ever  be 
gained  by  another.  Some  men  are  made  to  bf 
universal  favourites  in  daily  life,  wherever  they 
go.  Others,  quite  their  equab,  sometimes  theii 
wofmAang  in  eveiy  important  quality,  compaita 


ttfdy  lUuid  apart,  mbefiriended  tad  aleaa*  lUi 
if  a  remit  of  that  boundleii  Tarietj  whieh  «iiali 
in  the  natural  eharacten  which  Oo'i  haa  gheii  to 
Of,  following  nil  own  impenetrable  wiidom. 

And  10  it  ii  with  the  Sainta.  There  ar»  tboif 
to  whom  interceiiion  ia  daily  made  bj  tens  ol 
thousanda  of  Chriatiani ;  while  oihen  are  known 
only  by  their  plaee  in  the  calendar*  and  are  hoD 
oofod  by  a  derout  mle  rather  than  by  the  per* 
■Qoal  choice  of  the  individual  Chriitian.  We  all 
hare  onr  "  faTourite  Sainta."  It  it  often  dificnlt 
to  lay  why  we  prefer  to  haye  reconne  to  one  imtlMr 
than  to  another,  at  it  is  hard  to  say  why  we  enjoy 
one  man*s  society,  and  care  little  for  that  of  an* 
other.  But  so  it  is,  and  so  it  will  be  as  long  aa 
the  world  lasts,  and  both  the  Saints,  and  we  who 
honour  them,  are  what  we  are. 

The  Samt  whose  life  has  suggested  theit  fa- 
marks  is  perhaps — next,  of  course,  to  tha  Qnaas 
of  Sainto— <A«  "favourite  Saint**  of  the  whole 
calendar,  wherever  his  writings  are  known  and 
understood.  There  appears  in  the  mind  of  St. 
Frauds  of  Salea  that  union  of  sweetneia  and 
strength  of  manly  power  and  feminine  delieaey« 
of  profound  knowledge  and  practical  dexterity* 
which  constitute  a  chaiaeter  farmed  at  once  to 
win  and  anbdne  ounda  of  almost  every  typt  aad 


ill 


■  I 


' 


«• 


age.  As  tli0  me  aiBiiiig  flowen^  lo  it  he  ameBf 
Sainti.  Frook  the  thorny,  woody  fibre  of  the 
brier  eomei  forth  that  blossom  whieh  unites  all 
that  can  make  a  flower  lovely  and  attraetlTe ;  and 
from  the  hot  and  Tehement  natuxe  of  the  yonng 
SfaToyard  came  a  spiritual  bloom  whose  beauty 
and  fingiance  were  perfect  in  an  extraordinary 
degree.  All  things  that  oonunand  respeet  and 
attract  lore  were  found  in  Francis.  Hic^  rank, 
polish  of  manner,  geniality  of  dispoaitioii,  shrewd- 
ness of  head,  Tivacity  of  imagination,  a  capacity 
for  profeond  theological  stodies,  a  rare  felicity  in 
the  use  of  langoage,  a  caplHiting  grace  of  manner, 
an  almost  unrivalled  power  as  a  director  of  souls, 
aetiiity  without  bustle,  mortification  without  sad- 
ness,—«11  these  things  won  him  a  reputation  and  a 
bo^  of  affectionate  Mends  while  he  lifed,  and  a 
doiid  of  dienti  since  he  died,  whidk  it  would  not 
be  easy  to  parallel  in  the  case  of  any  other  of  the 
band  of  Saints.  Few  men,  moreofer,  have  pos- 
sessed such  wisdom  and  candour  in  matters  thec^ 
logical  and  controveniaL  A  lofer  of  gentle  means 
in  an  age  of  persecution  {  a  hearty  IVendunan 
withoat  Oallicaniim ;  an  Ultramontane  witboat 
ezi^pgeration ;  a  spiritoal  guide  who  eoold  eon- 
luct  souls  with  the  referent  delieaqr  of  a  troe 
%pid%  and  the  piffd^f  Anmimm  «f  a  hmi  d 


« 


liii 

the  world.~he  «tm  Um  by  hi,  writing.,  to  be 
accepted  as  at  once  one  of  the  safest,  the  most 
satisfying,  and  the  most  profonnd  teachers  of  that 
wisdom  which  is  revealed  to  aU  the  Saints;  bnt 
which  it  IS  giTen  to  few  to  communicate  with  the 
fiUness  and  beauty  with  which  it  ever  flows  frem 
his  lips; 


J.  M.  0 


Pir 


I  v. 


xi 


!:| 


%: 


T.  Francis  db  Salbi  be- 
longs to  that  class  of  Saints 
the  lustre  of  whose  lineem 
and  whose  conspicuous  statioB 
in  the  world,  have  coiro- 
Bponded  to  their  rank  in  tha 
celestial  kingdom.  Scarcely  any  condition 
of  life  could  DO  named  that  nas  not  affinded 
the  material  of  heroic  sanctity.  A  labourer 
like  St.  Isidore,  a  merchant  uke  St.  Fnmds 
of  Assisi,  a  soldier  like  St.  CamiUus  of 
LelliSy  a  seryant-girl  like  St  Zita,  a  shep- 
herdess like  the  Blessed  Germaine  Gounn, 
furnish,  in  the  more  ordinary,  or  in  ti^ 
humblest  walks  of  life,  examples  of  tha 
same  holiness  which,  in  St.  Henry  or  St.  Louis,  adoned 
the  crown  of  empire  or  royalty.  The  Saint  of  whese 
life  we  are  about  to  giye  a  sketch  was  not  indeed,  of 
soeh  exalted  rank  as  these  last;  stUl  his  oirth  plaoed 


him  in  the  highest  class  of  sodety.    Ho  wm  the 

MB  of  one  d:  the  primripd  notilM  of  fkmj,-  Johi 


ii  I 


tt 


r  ■ 


p 


1  fv.  rmuien  di  tALu. 

lad  of  idM»  of  Boifj,  of  BaUejson,  and  of  Vill^ 

rogot,  wuUj  teylMi  ^ J  u^e  seoond  of  those  titlei.   Hk 

BBoAory  nwioe%  dauf^hter  of  Mdohior  do  Syonna^ 

Lord  of  La  TbiuUe  anil  of  Valli^res,  came  of  no  leM 

Boblo  itook.    Franois   was  bom   at  their  anoestni] 

easde  of  Sales  (a  magnificent  seat  near  Anneo^,  which 

was  afterwards  destroyed  by  order  of  Louis  XIIL 

during  his  war  with  Saroj),  on  Ang.  21, 1667.    His 

triogiaphers  gira  some  onrious  anecdotes  of  his  childish 

fife^  deriTed  firom  his  nnrse,  a  good  creature,  who  from 

tho  first  beUered  she  had  charp^  of  a  saint.    These 

itoiieB  are  too  minute  for  an  outhne  like  this ;  but  the j 

ahow  the  genns  of  tliat  sweet  and  beautifiil  character 

whieh  afterwards  made  his  name,  as  it  were,  peHume 

the  whole  Ohnroh  with  its  fragrance.     Even  before 

Ranois  ooold  speak  his  attendants  found  that  he  was 

nerer  so  hsppj  as  wnen  they  carried  him  into  a  church. 

Like  most  gnat  and  holy  men,  he  had  the  blessing  of 

having  an  excellent  mother,  who  took  care  that  the 

firandations  of  piety  were  wdl  laid  in  his  earliest  years. 

flis  fether  appears  to  have  been  a  good  specimen  of 

the  nobleman  of  the  old  school;  honourable,  sinffle- 

mindedy  and  ohiTalrous,  and  at  the  same  time  full  of 

dkpaity  and  self-respect.    He  had  a  numerous  family, 

all  of  them  of  lofty  principle  and  interesting  character. 

Oor  Saint  was  the  ddest  son;  the  second  ana  third  were 

GkJoysLord  of  Boisy,  and  Louis  Lord  of  LaThuille;  the 

finrner  of  whom  was  fiunous  for  his  skill  in  reconoilmff 

thoM  at  Tarianoe, — a  quality  which,  in  those  trouoled 

times^  he  was  often  called  on  to  exercise.    Louis  also 

liTod  a  holy  life  in  the  world,  and  was  the  &ther  of 

Charles  Angoste,  the  pious  biographer  of  the  Saint,  and 

his  seoond  successor  in  the  see  of  Geneva.    Next  came 

John  Franois,  who  was  his  vicar-general,  coadjutor,  and 

immediate  suooeuor.    The  fifth  brother  was  Benuurd 

(ihero  was  an  ancient  affinity  between  the  house  of 

8a]«  and  that  of  the  Saint  of  that  name)  Baron  of 

numns,  who  married  a  daughter  of  St.  Jane  Franoes 

d«  Ohankiit  ^"^  ^^  ^'"^  ^  »^  ^"'^J  H^    Jaui%  tha 


ii 


II- 


u 


1. 1.] 


0T.  wmknen  »■  lAiak 


\  ■ 


tittk  brothmr,  a  kmffht  of  the  Ordor  of  St  Joha  of /•> 
nualem,  is  describea  as  a  gallant  caraliflr  of  tho  olda 
dajB.  There  were  two  sisters:  Gaspardei  married  te 
the  Lord  of  Comilloiiy  a  worthy  lady,  who  followed  the 
noble  ezaSnples  set  by  her  brotners;  toad  **  Mademoisdk 
Jeanne/*  ^o  died  very  young,  afW  affording  greal 
promise  from  her  innocent  and  Tirtaooj  character. 
Altogether  it  was  a  noble  household,  fit  to  be  headed 
by  a  saint 

Francis  was  sent  in  early  childhood  to  the  ooDem 
of  La  Roche,  and  afterwardls  to  that  of  Anneoj.  fie 
was  from  the  first  marked  out  among  his  youn^  eomf 
panions  for  his  superior  manliness  and  grayity  of  d^ 
meanour.  Whilst  the  rest  rambled  about  in  iohoonMy 
fi»hioc,  hatless  and  unbuttoned,  amnm'Tig  themselyei 
with  boyish  pursuits,  he  was  always  carerally  dressed; 
and,  instead  of  joining  in  their  amusements,  would  stay 
at  home  and  read  to  the  old  lady  at  whose  house  lie 
boarded.  He  was,  howeyer,  well  trained  in  all  the  ac- 
complishments wluch  in  those  days  were  oonsidered 
essential  to  the  rank  of  a  young  noble ;  he  was  taught 
to  dance,  to  fence,  and  to  ride;  and  these  ezerdsei  he 
learnt  wall,  being  always  particularly  noticed  for  that 
flracefril,  dignifiea,  and  easy  deportment,  which  is  sel- 
dom  attained  without  such  traming  in  early  lift.  He 
was  five  years  at  the  college  of  iumeey,  and  leained 
there  the  Latin  lang^a^e,  and  **  made  notable  progwui 
In  the  humanities;"  by  which  phrase,  now  getting 
antiquated,  the  old  school  meant  that  general  euhiya- 
tion  in  polite  literature  which  informed  and  moulded 
the  mind  so  as  to  be  well  furnished  with  the  habits 
acd  ideas  peculiarly  belonginsr  to  ''the  ioholar  and  the 

Ctleman.'*  He  was  a  nara  itodent,  an  early  riser; 
moderate  in  sitting  up  at  ni^|ht  At  the  age  of 
eleyen  he  entreated  permission  of  hu  fiither  to  take  the 
tonsure,  haying  at  that  early  age  deekied  to  adopt  the 
ecclesiastical  life.  M.  de  Boisy  by  no  meani  deiiied 
this,  for  his  ambition  was  that  his  ddest  son  fhoaU 
■ake  a  great  figure  in  the  werid;  Iwt  with  thai  iorl  el 


I 


r  I 


P 


k  §T.  FmAVOIf  »■  SALM. 

wmgoiMnt  which  men  of  great  experience  often  pre- 
Sir  to  fiolent  measures,  he  permitted  him  to  do  as  he 
^eased.  The  <dd  lord  knew  that  the  tonsure  did  not 
bind  his  son  finally  to  become  an  ecclesiastic ;  and  de- 
pended  on  the  changes  a  young  man's  mind  goes 
through,  to  dissipate  this  predilection.  In  most  cases 
hii  sagaoitT  would  not  hare  been  at  ^ult:  but  he  did 
not  as  yet  Imow  that  his  son  was  a  saint.  The  youths 
Francis  receiyed  the  tonsure  in  Sept.  1578.  To  show 
haw  the  simplert  temptations  sometimes  affect  heroic 
mindsy  we  may  mention  that  the  youthful  Saint  felt  a 
Pjanff  of  extreme  repugnance  when  his  long  and  beau- 
tiful hair  was  about  to  be  cut  off.  He  generously 
made  ^e  sacrifice;  but  did  not  entirely  regain  his 
tranquHlitr  till  it  was  orer. 

y  In  1680  he  was  sent  to  pursue  his  studies  in  the 
Unitenity  of  Paris.  His  fattier  had  intended  to  send 
him  to  the  coU^pe  of  Nararre,  which,  out  of  the  many 
'b  that  £unous  uniTersity,  was  the  chief  resort  of  the 
ronng  noblesse  of  Sayoy ;  but  at  the  earnest  entreaty 
of  Francis,  the  college  of  the  Jesuits  was  fixed  upon  for 
lum.  Here  he  remained  five  years,  making  great  ao- 
quisitionB  in  the  yarious  branches  ot  the  learned  educa- 
tion of  the  age.  He  studied  Greek  under  the  Pdre 
Sirmond,  whose  vast  eruditi(m  in  ecclesiastical  anti- 
quity was  evinced  by  many  great  works;  theology 
under  Jolm  Francis  Snares,  aouotless  an  accomplished 
teacher,  thoi^h  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  more  fa- 
mous theologian  of  that  name.  Another  of  his  theolo- 
gical masters  was  Dandini,  one  of  the  greatest  Aristo- 
telians of  the  day,  who  was  afterwaras  sent  out  as 
Apostolic  Nuncio  to  the  Maronites  of  Mount  Libanus. 
Francis  was  most  diligent  in  taking  notes  of  the  lec- 
tures which  he  attended ;  and  his  manuscripts,  which 
still  remain,  are  a  curiosity  for  their  elegance  and  pre- 
cision. **  From  the  first  word  to  the  last,"  says  his 
most  recent  biographer,  **  eyery  thing  in  them  is  of  an 
czqniaite  neatnawy  azoeedingly  carenil,  perfectly  dia- 
tinol  tad  Msy  t»  imdf  proyioad  one  bas  aoqaM  • 


H 


*■.: 


em,  I.]  IT.  FmAHou  »■  iaub.  I 

•omplete  aoqnaintanoe  and  a  tort  of  haMtnatUR  witk 
the  abbreviations  used  in  it.  All  the  margina  are  oi>> 
▼ered  with  notices  of  the  divisions  and  subdiTinoni, 
with  the  various  heads  of  proof,  and  form,  as  it  were^ 
an  analysis  of  the  whole  work;  finally,  one  reoogniaei 
tliroughout  not  only  the  orderly  mind  which  doei 
every  thing  well,  but  also  the  logical  mind  which  clas- 
sifies its  ideas,  and  furnishes  itself  with  a  clear  and  pre- 
cise account  of  them."  One  study,  unusual  in  that  age^ 
to  which  he  addicted  himself,  was  tJie  Hebrew  language^ 
which  he  learned  imder  a  celebrated  teacher  of  the  day, 
Genebrard,  who  afterwards  became  Archbishop  of  Aix. 
His  scriptural  studies  were  very  profound,  as  we  find 
continually  exemplified  in  his  tiveological  treatises, 
where  he  frequently  illustrates  the  meaning  of  texts 
oy  reference  to  the  Septuagint.  His  private  tutor  fm 
this  period,  and  indeed  for  the  rest  of  his  education 
also,  was  the  Abb6  DSage,  a  good  man,  but  addicted 
to  hold  the  reins  of  discipline  rather  tightly;  which 
brings  out  some  amusing  scenes,  where  his  ill>temper. 
and  yet  the  affectionate  love  with  which  he  regarded 
his  charge,  contrasts  with  the  heroic  humili^  of  the 
young  noble.  At  Paris  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and 
^tical  events  of  his  life  took  place,  a  terrible  tempta- 
don  to  despair,  which  came  on  suddenly  and  lasted  for 
a  consideraole  time,  but  from  which  he  was  ri4eased  in 
a  wonuerful  manner.  He  was  about  the  age  of  seven- 
teen when  the  idea  took  possession  of  his  mind  that  he 
was  not  in  a  state  of  grace,  and  that  consequently  there 
was  a  frightful  probability  of  his  being  etemallT  lost 
His  soul  was  overwhelmed  with  fear,  which  he  m  vain 
tried  to  reason  away.  When  he  represented  to  himself 
tHe  promises  of  Almighty  God  to  nelp  those  who  call 
upon  Him,  the  consciousness  of  his  own  weakness  came 
on  to  stifle  the  rising  hope.  He  might  fall  into  mortal 
sin ;  feeble  as  he  was,  it  seemed  to  him  certain  he  would 
do  so  if  a  dangerous  occasion  occurred.  The  g^  oi 
hell  thus  seemM  to  open  before  him  at  the  very  tima 
^Im  wiroely  a  delibemta  Ttnial  sn  had  ftaioM 


!■:, 


I      iP 


1 


•T.  VEAllOll  DB  IA: 

Tei  ftt  the  reiy  time  he  waa  going  through 
this  airfbl  oooflioty  he  gaye  the  moet  heautifu  anawen 
to  the  tamptetiona  which  assailed  him.  <<OLord/*he 
flriedy  <<if  1  am  not  to  see  Thee,  let  my  pain  at  least 
hafo  this  asaoMpement, — ^permit  me  not  ever  to  curse 
or  blaapheme  Thee.  0  Love,  0  Charity,  0  Beauty,  to 
whom  I  have  TOwed  all  my  affections,  am  I  never,  then, 
to  enjoy  Thy  delights?  am  I  never,  then,  to  be  ine- 
briated with  the  abundance  of  the  goods  of  Thy  house  '* 
Am  I  never,  then,  to  pass  to  the  place  of  tliat  ador- 
able tabernacle  where  my  God  dweUs  ?  0  Virgin  all- 
lovinir,  Ihou  whose  charms  cannot  rejoice  the  regions 
of  heU,  am  I  neven  then,  to  see  thee  in  the  kingdom  of 
thy  Son  ?  Beautiful  as  the  moon,  shining  like  the  sun, 
am  I  never  to  share  in  the  immense  benefit  of  the  Re- 
iurreotion  ?  But  did  not  my  sweet  Jesus  die  for  me,  as 
well  as  for  the  rest?  Ah,  be  it  as  it  may.  Lord,  if  I 
cannot  love  Thee  in  the  next  life,  since  no  one  praises 
Thee  in  hell,  may  I  at  least  profit  by  all  the  moments 
of  my  short  existence  here  to  love  tiieer*  He  seems, 
f  it  were  possible,  to  have  suffered  the  very  agonies 
of  hdl,  without  the  loss  of  the  love  of  God.  It  seems 
as  though  an  angel  had  caught  him  by  the  hau*,  and 
held  him  over  the  very  flames  of  that  dark  lake  of  end- 
less soiTow.  Considering  what  he  was  to  become  in 
after-life,  the  guide  and  comforter  of  such  a  multitude 
of  minds,  in  every  variety  of  spiritual  suffering,  it  was 
aeoeasary,  in  order  to  ^ve  him  the  means  for  such  uni- 
versal sympathy,  far  lumself  to  have  suffered  the  same. 
Without  supernatural  means,  indeed,  a  person  of  an- 

SiUc  innocence  l&e  Francis  could  not  have  sounded 
ose  unusual  depths  of  human  agony.  The  tempta- 
tions, as  we  have  said,  lasted  for  a  long  time,  not  less 
than  six  weeks ;  during  which  he  was  hardly  able  to 
eat,  or  drink,  or  sleep.  He  lost  his  colour  and  his 
strength;  he  went  about  haggard  and  trembling,  like 
cna  whose  whole  energies  were  breaking  uu.  Indeed, 
it  aftj  be  said  that  ror  him  to  hmve  aumved  such  • 
kMiflia  IwuiiMimi  at  all,  of  itMilf  ahowad  thst  tha  la 


\\ 


••J 


■T.  FRANOIS  DB  MALI 


pression  wu  sBpematand.    During  aU  thif  Unm  kl 
aever  gave  np  any  of  his  usual  exercises  of  dflVQtiM| 
but)  on  the  contrary,  increased  them  consideraUy,  and 
did  his  utmost  to  strongmen  his  soul  bj  recaUinff  aQ 
the  yanous  consolatory  passages  from  Holy  Writ.  Tnart 
still  exists  a  paper  written  b^  him,  in  which  he  veoi^- 
tulates  these  m  a  most  touching  nuumer.  It  is  too  long 
to  be  inserted  here  at  length:  but  a  few  santenow  from 
the  commencement  of  it  will  show  what  a  dep*h  both 
of  intellect  and  of  holiness  there  must  have  bee»  in  ihii 
youth  of  seventeen.     ''  Prostrated  at  the  feet  of  St 
Augustine  and  St  Thomas,  prepared  to  be  ignonuit  (d 
all  things,  that  I  may  know  Hmi  Who  ia  the  Wisdom 
,  of  the  rather,  Cluist  crucified;  although  I  dopU  boI 
that  the  things  which  I  have  written  an  true,  bdoania 
I  see  nothing  that  can  cause  a  doabt  of  thair  iolid 
truth;  yet  as  I  see  not  all  thingi|  and  lo  Uddsa  a 
mystery  is  too  bright  to  be  lodiua  at  fixedly  by  my 
dim  eyes ;  if  hereSfter  tha  oontraiT  shoaUT  appeafc 
which  I  suppose  never  will  ba— yea,  u,  wbkk  tha  Lad 
Jesus  forbid^  I  knew  that  I  were  daomad  by  that  will 
which  Thomas  declares  to  be  in  God,  that  Ha  adgkl 
show  His  justice^ — ^I,  wilhngly  oonfiNmdedy  and  loalvg 
up  to  the  Judge  most  high,  would  my  with  tha  Ao- 
phetyShallnotmysoulbesabjeettoGod?  Ym,¥tiam, 
for  so  it  hath  seemed  good  m  Thy  liglit;  lliy  win  ba 
done.   And  this,  in  the  bitteniem  of  mj  tmdf  I  wodd 
say  so  often,  till  God,  changing  my  lite  and  Hia  aan- 
tence.  would  answer  me :  Be  confidant^  mj  ion;  I  dama 
not  the  death  of  the  wicked,  but  father  vbai  ha  lifa  . 
...  thou  shalt  not  go  down  into  hall;  but  thon  shah 
go  up  to  the  mountain  of  the  Lord,  and  to  ihb  hoom  of 
the  God  of  Jacob."    The  temptatioiL  howafmy  thowb 
so  ffenerously  combated,  remained  ror  weekly  and  ma 
health  began  to  fail  under  it    He  beoama  wwtad  ta  a 
skeleton,  and  moved  about  like  a  ^hoat;  ao  tlwl  all  Ua 
firiends  became  alarmed  about  hmi.    At  langth  tUi 
great  cross  disappeared  as  raddnly  ja  it  aamau    Hia 
ana  day  entarea  tha  ehuiah  ol  8t     '         •     -  - 


p 


[I  I' 


1'! 


11 


tiMi  knflh  dawn  btfora  an  imaffe  of  the  Blened  TirgJa. 
Hui  eje  was  eMght  bj  a  ^blBt  on  the  waUi  on  wmeh 
waa  imaribed  the  fiunoiu  praj^er  of  St  Bernard,  the 
•fteaoj  of  wliioh  has  been  Terified  bj  snob  oonnieu 
naoei:  '' BMnember,  0  most  holy  Yinpn  Maiy.** 
Ha  repeated  it  with  great  emotion;  and  implored^ 
tbrongn  the  interoeesion  of  Maiy,  that  it  might  please 
Qod  to  restore  his  peace  of  mind.  He  also  made  a 
▼oir  of  perjietiial  enastity ;  and  promised  to  recite  the 
ehaplet  of  six  decades  amy  in  memory  of  it  All  at 
once  be  felt  his  sonl  in  tranooillity.  The  dark  thoughts 
which  had  Imng  OTer  him  for  so  many  weeks,  seemed 
to  come  off  firom  his  mind  like  the  scales  from  a  leper 
when  miraeolooaly  cleansed.  He  came  ont  firom  the 
ehnrob  in  that  sweet  and  pofomid  calmness  of  mind 
which  he  ne^er  afterwards  lost  He  fulfilled  his  reso* 
Intion  of  redting  the  ohaplet  daily,  and  also  added  to  it 
the  Memarare,  which  he  recommended  to  all  his  peni- 
tents. 

After  having  spent  Are  years  at  Paris  with  great 
pofity  he  returned  home  for  a  short  visit  His  nther 
then  decided  on  sending  him  to  finish  his  education  at 
*hB  UnirerBity  of  Padua,  the  legal  schools  of  which  at 
that  time  had  the  highest  reputation  throughout  Europe. 
Thither  he  arriyed  at  the  Deginnint  jf  me  yenr  1587, 
and  recommenced  his  studies  under  the  care  oi  professors 
of  gnat  celebrity,  the  principal  of  whom  was  Guide 
PanairDolo,  more  generally  known  under  the  name  of 
Pandroins,  whose  fame  is  eyen  yet  not  foigotten  by 
students  ot  the  dtil  law,  on  which  he  wrote  some  very 
elab(»«te  works.  His  spiritual  director  was  n  man  not 
1e«  remarkable,  the  Jesuit  Posseyinus,  who  had  retired 
to  Padua  afiber  a  great  career  in  ecclesiastical  diplomacy. 
He  had  been  apostolic  nundo  in  Sweden,  where  he  suc- 
ceeded in  reconciling  John  III.  to  the  Catholic  Church; 
and  had  afterwards  carried  on  important  negotiations 
on  behalf  of  the  Holy  See  in  Poland  and  Russia.  His 
tnfiniiwe  bad  a  largo  share  in  the  formation  of  the 
•f  Sraada  da  Salaam    It  was  he  who,  afi« 


I 


^s 


#■•  I«]  ST.  FBAMOU  Dl  SALM.  f 

long  dflUbentions  and  man j  praTen,  finallj  dedded 
that  his  holy  disciple  ought  to  aaoot  the  ecolesiastioBl 
career  in  preference  to  the  bar,  whicn  his  father  wished 
for  him.  He  taught  him  the  Jesuit  method  of  medita* 
tion,  fresh  from  the  traditions  of  the  great  St.  Ignatius. 
He  read  with  him  the  saored  Scriptures,  being  perhaps 
the  first  exegetical  divine  of  that  age ;  and  undor  his 
instruction  Francis  learned  above  all  to  prize  those  three 
great  authors,  who  throughout  life  were  the  chief  sources 
of  his  learning,  St  Thomas,  St.  Bonaventure,  and  Oar- 
dinal  Bellarmme. 

At  the  University  of  Padua,  his  demeanour,  of 
which  we  have  comparativelv  aoundant  records,  was 
inch  as  to  furnish  quite  an  iaeal  for  the  Catholic  stu- 
dent to  aim  at.  The  place  was  one  of  immense  tempta- 
lons :  the  license  of  tne  medisBval  universities  still  pre> 
i^ed  there,  and  virtue  was  in  great  danger.  On  two 
jGcasions  he  was  brought  into  tne  very  fivnace  of  trial 
|l  party  of  his  fellow-students  resolved  to  put  his  purity 
CO  the  test,  and  made  a  regular  conspiracy  for  this 
wicked  purpose;  taking  him  to  what  they  pretended 
was  the  nouse  of  a  newly-arrived  professor  oi  jurispru- 
dence, where  they  had  engaged  a  courtesan  to  allure 
him  to  sin.  They  introduced  this  miserable  woman  to 
him  as  if  she  were  a  lady  of  the  family,  and  then  left 
the  room  on  one  excuse  or  other.  Presenuy  she  changed 
her  manner,  and  attempted  to  entice  him  by  immoaest 
gestures.  The  moment  he  perceived  her  real  character, 
he  rushed  out  of  the  room,  spitting  in  her  fieuse  when 
she  attempted  to  detain  him.  Thus  the  temptation 
which  these  instruments  of  Satan  had  prepared  to  de- 
stroy his  soul,  only  redounded  to  his  glory,  and  covered 
them  with  shame.  On  another  occasion,  whilst  at 
Padua,  a  lady  of  the  loftiest  rank  of  the  nobility  con- 
eeived  a  violent  passion  for  him,  and  sought  to  lead  hin 
astray  from  the  paths  of  virtue,  bribing  one  of  his  fel 
low-students  to  try  to  further  her  wicked  designs  by 
his  persuasions.  The  holv  yonth  treated  the  propoid 
wiih  honor,  aharply  rebdnd  tbs  htm  mmmnga,  tai 


% 


««Urad  him  oat  of  his  pesenoe.  The  instantvMoii 
^ignitf  of  hoUiMW  wi^  wnioh  he  repelled  these  tempte- 
tioofy  ihowed  what  a  treasure  of  grace  he  had  acqiured 
tt  that  early  and  oritioal  age. 

Whilst  at  Padua  he  made  a  plan  of  life  for  himself, 
whieh  oontains  many  remarkable  points,  and  is  well 
worth  the  itody  of  everr  young'  man  engaged  in  the 
ioademie  oaroer.  It  is  nardly  necessary  to  say,  that 
vsgnlaiil^  in  meditation  and  m  hearing  the  holy  Mass 
are  the  leading  rules  which  he  adopts.  The  chief 
biographical  interest  which  attaches  to  tnem  is  to  observe 
at  what  an  early  period  he  had  developed  in  his  mind 
the  ipiritiial  method  which  pervades  the  IntrodueHon 
to  a  Dewmt  ]Afe»  He  lays  ^at  stress  on  what  he 
ealls  "theeieroise  of  preparation."  His  words  are: 
*'  I  will  always  give  the  preference  above  every  thing 
else  to  the  exercise  oi  preparatumy  and  I  will  perform 
H  once  at  least  in  the  day,  viz.  in  the  morning."  He 
divides  it  into  five  parts :  the  invocation  of  the  Divine 
help;  the  imagination  or  anticipation  of  what  he  has  to 
do;  the  arrangement  of  it;  ^.*:e  making  a  resolution  of 
not  offending  God;  and  finally,  the  recommendation  of 
his  afhirs  to  the  Divine  goodness.  On  the  second  head 
he  says :  ''  I  will  simply  think  of  all  those  things  which 
may  occur  to  me;  of  the  companjr  in  which  I  may  be 
oUiged  to  remain ;  of  the  affairs  which  may  arise ;  of  the 
places  in  which  I  must  be;  of  the  occasions  which  may 
4i;mpen  to  take  me  off  my  guard;  and  thus,  by  the 
help  of  the  Lord,  J  will  meet  difficulties  wisely  and 
prudently."  Then  as  to  the  arrangement  of  Lis  ^  ( tions . 
"  I  will  consider  and  diligently  inquire  what  aretbe  li^'st 
means  of  avoiding  falls;  I  will  see  what  it  is  '  \  i'  7' 
to  do,  in  what  order  I  must  proceed  in  this  or  tnat  aiiair; 
what  X  ought  to  say  in  society.  I  will  decide  as  to  my 
dress  aad  demeanour,  and  determine  what  I  must  seek 
and  win;^^  T  must  avoid."  The  rules,  which  are  in  Latin, 
are  sriMet;xi?.es  clngularly  expressed.  Thus  the  passa^ 
where  ^e  ih^v^  given  the  word  *^  society"  is,  *^quid  t% 
9Qmmhtilim  m$t§  A^^ktm»**  InFnnoii*sowniiNr«neb 


h 


••1 


•V.  WmAMOW  D*  SAJ.] 


11 


BK 


\        \ 


\Hi§j^d§e0f%t$JedirmmemMfagnisJ*  Medi- 
Mob  he  oaUs,  bj  a  highljrefinea  ififMiaphory  "th«  sleep  of 
tiie  ■ool,'*  beoAiue  it  refreshes  the  mind  a»  rest  does  ths 
body ;  tnd  again,  as  ia  bodily  sleep  the  operatiooi  of  the 
Mdj  do  not  act  oejoAd  themselves,  but  aro  restrained 
wiibin  ^6  limits  of  the  body,  so,  says  the  voutlifiil  saint, 
**  I  will  keep  fdl  my  spiritual  faculties  witliin  the  limits 
rf  ^>h«  spirit."  This  is  a  passage  full  of  the  most  sug- 
^-aftiTe  wisdom,  and  containing  one  of  the  choicest  rules 
m  meditation,  inoulcatinff  that  drawing-oif  the  minu 
fiom  thmffs  of  sense  wmch  St.  Catharine  of  Sienna 
aalled  the  ouilding  of  a  cell  within  her  heart;  and  which 
another  holy  person,  D.  Leonardo  Fattore,  signified  by 
thb  expression,  ''the  land  of  faith."  ''The  land  of 
ftdth*'  was  a  certain  state  of  the  soul,  calm,  equable  and 
penetrated  with  the  conviction  of  the  truths  of  religion, 
m  which  he  placed  it  occasionally  when  in  the  midst 
of  the  business  and  trials  of  life.  To  return,  however, 
to  IVancis.  If  he  cannot  find  time  at  the  usual  hovtr 
for  this  "  most  vigilant  sleep  of  the  soul,"  he  resolves 
to  deprive  himself  of  a  portion  of  his  bodily  sleep  in 
order  to  it,  either  by  remaining  awake  after  ne  goes  to 
bed,  or  rousing  himself  after  his  first  sleep,  or  rising 
earlier  than  usual.  He  provides  beautiful  thoughts 
far  himself  firom  the  sacred  Scriptures  if  he  chances  to 
wake  during  the  night :  "  I  will  rouse  my  heart  with 
the  words :  Medid  node  clamor  factua  est :  Ecce 
tponaua  vmUt,  exite  obviam  ei;  'At  midnight  there 
was  a  cry  made :  Behold  the  Bridegroom  cometh,  go 
ye  forth  to  meet  Him.'  Then,  from  the  consideratioo 
of  the  darkness  outside  of  mo,  passing  on  to  the  inward 
darkness  of  my  soul  and  of  all  sinners,  thus  I  will  pray 
daring  the  nignt :  llluminare  his  qui  in  tenebrisy  &q.  ; 
'To  enliffhten  them  that  sit  in  darkness  and  in  the  sha- 
dow of  iwath,  to  direct  our  feet  into  the  way  of  peace.* " 
He  adds:  "  But  since  nightly  terrors  sometimes  hinder 
the  note  of  inch  devotion,  if  I  chance  to  be  seized  with 
than,  I  wiU  d^ver  myself  fum  them  by  thinldnpp 
9imj  •Dfal»giiaidiao,  Mymg,  Dominut  a  dtxtrii  mmt 


J 


m 


•T.  rRAMOU  DB  8ALK1. 


ui,  n$  iommavmr;  which  some  doctors  hare  inter- 
preted of  the  angel-guardiaii.''  We  may  illustrate  this 
eorions  passage  from  a  letter  of  his,  in  which  he  says 
to  the  religious  sister  to  whom  he  writes :  **  The} 
tell  me,  my  very  dear  daughter,  that  you  are  airaid 
of  ffhosts.  The  supreme  Spirit  of  our  God  is  ever* 
whL,  without  whose  will  aiid  permission  no  spirit  stirs. 
He  who  fears  that  Divine  Spint  ought  to  fear  no  other 
spirit.  L  when  I  was  young,  was  touched  hy  this  fan* 
tasT ;  and  to  rid  myself  of  it,  I  forced  myseUf,  little  by 
little,  to  go  alone,  my  heart  armed  with  confidence  in 
God,  into  places  where  my  imagination  threatened  me 
with  fear;  and  at  last  I  strenfifthened  myself  so,  that 
the  darknesses  and  solitude  of  the  night  are  a  delight 
to  me,  because  of  that  omnipresence  of  God  which  one 
enjoys  more  at  will  in  that  solitude.  The  good  angels 
are  around  you  like  a  company  of  soldiers  on  watch. 
This  assurance  will  be  acquired  oy  degrees,  as  the  grace 
of  God  shall  grow  in  YOU."  (X«t^  407.) 

The  subjects  whicn  he  marks  down  tor  meditation, 
though  not  differing  from  those  to  be  found  in  ordinary 
books  (which,  inde^,  have  ever  since  his  time  been  mucn 
coloured  by  his  writings)^  are  expressed  in  a  highly  ori- 
ginal manner.  Thus  he  resolves,  when  he  has  an  oppor- 
tune time  for  this  *'  holy  quiet,''  to  recal  the  pious  emo- 
tions, longings,  desires,  resolutions,  sweetnesses,  and 
inspirations,  which  he  has  formerly  received  from  the 
Divine  Majesty;  and  also  to  call  to  mind  how  ^at  hit 
obligation  is  to  Almi&^hty  God,  "  in  that  in  His  mercy 
He  nas  at  times  weakened  my  senses  by  some  diseasei 
and  infirmities,  which  have  been  of  no  little  advantage  to 
me."  There  is  also  a  short  and  admirable  reflection  on 
the  excellence  of  Christian  virtue,  "  which  sanctifies  a 
man,  which  chang-es  him  into  an  angel,  which  makes  him 
a  Uttle  God  (deulujn),  which  in  this  life  confers  paradise 
on  him."  Lastly  are  some  w  mderfrd  thoughts  on  the  at- 
tributes of  God.  "  I  wiU  contomplato,"  he  says,  **  the  in- 
finite wisdom,  omnipotence,  and  inoomproheosible  good* 
MM  of  God;  bntl  willfpMuIljaimtttthiiyluiwthMv 


«-J 


fr.  VEAVCIl  Bl  MALI 


•zoaUent  attaribates  shine  forth  in  the  sacred  mjstenflt 
of  the  life,  death,  and  passion  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ , 
in  the  most  eminent  holiness  of  our  Lady,  Blessed 
Harj;  and  in  the  imitablo  perfections  of  tne  faithfai 
servants  of  God.  Passing  from  hence  to  the  emnjrean 
heaven,  I  will  mai-vel  at  the  glory  of  paradise,  tne  un- 
faiUnff  felicity  of  the  angelic  spirits  and  of  the  souls  of 
the  blessed;  and  how  the  most  august  Trinity,  in  thf 
eternal  rewards  wherewith  It  remunerates  this  blessed 
multitude,  shows  Itself  powerfii],  wise,  and  good." 

There  is  also  a  set  ot  rules  for  his  conduct  in  society, 
so  highly  curious  and  interesting,  that  v  shall  give 
them  almost  at  full  length.  They  are  wi  en  in  sin- 
gxdar  and  rather  difficult  Latin,  of  which  tiie  following 
seems  to  be  the  result,  expressed  in  the  language  of  the 
present  a^e  and  in  the  third  person,  but,  with  that  limi- 
tation, acmering  as  closely  as  possible  to  the  phraseology 
of  the  writer : 

1.  He  first  distinguishes  between  general  society 
{congrewus)  and  intimate  friendship  (consuetudo).  In 
the  foimer,  we  see  people  only  for  a  short  time,  and 
without  any  particular  aemotistrations  of  affection ;  in 
the  latter,  we  often  meet,  we  show  familiarity,  entertain 
affection,  and  visit  our  chosen  friends,  in  order  to  live 
in  a  praisewoithy  manner,  and  mutually  advise  with 
each  other. 

3.  He  resolves  never  to  despise,  or  to  give  indi 
cations  that  he  absolutely  avoids  the  SDciety  of  any  one 
whomsoever ;  for  this  gives  one  the  character  of  being 
proud,  high,  severe,  arrogant,  censorious,  ambitious, 
and  excessive  in  the  expression  of  these  feehngs.  In 
society,  he  resolves  t«  be  very  carefid  not  to  appear  as 
the  "great  ally"  of  any  one  (ne  cum  aHqtio  sociiim 
Maam)f  not  even  witli  his  most  intimate  friends,  if  any 
cnance  to  be  present;  for  this  would  smack  of  levilTf  tt 
those  who  observe  it.  He  will  not  allow  himself  ixk  any 
mipropriety  of  6]>eech  or  action,  lest,  by  too  ready  €a- 
milianty,  he  get  the  character  of  Jbeing  impertment. 
4boy«  aU,  he  resolves  to  avoid  saying  biting,  pnngemt. 


iT 


f 


"1 


V  I 


II  fT.  nUHOIf  SB  lALHi 

«r  lowitie  thingB  against  people;  for  it  it  mere  itupi 
jitj  to  think  we  oan  laugh  at  people  who  have  no  re» 
wm  for  bearing  with  ns,  and  yet  not  incur  their  hatred. 
He  reeolvei  to  pay  every  one  the  honour  due  to  him,  to 
ohsenre  modetty,  to  speak  little  and  well,  tlmt  the  com- 
pany may  retire  rather  with  a  desire  to  have  more  of 
nis  society  than  &tigned  with  it.  If  the  meeting  is 
but  momentary,  and  he  has  hardly  time  to  say  more 
than  **  How  do  you  do?"  (^uamvis  a  salutaHone  non 
aiiud  dieerem,)  he  will  do  so  iu  a  hberal,  polite,  and 
well-rMnplated  manner,  neither  austere  nor  gloomy. 

8.  Then,  as  to  his  intimate  friends,  thrae  shall  be 
fenff  qoody  and  hmomdble  (because  it  is  extremdy 
difficult  to  succeed  with  many,  or  to  avoid  being  oor^ 
mpted  by  associating  with  the  bad,  or  to  be  honoured 
except  by  the  honourable).  The  grand  precept  he  re- 
solves to  observe,  both  as  to  ^neral  society  and  inti- 
mate friendship,  is  this :  Amtcu*  omnilmsy  fam^iarit 
paueit.  Judgment  and  prudence  is  every  where  needed. 
There  is  no  rule  without  an  exception,  but  that  one  rule 
which  is  the  foundation  of  all  the  rest :  Ifihil  contra 
Deum,  With  his  intimate  friends  he  resolves  to  be 
modest  without  impertinence,  easy  without  austerity, 
fir eet  without  affectotion,  pliable  without  contradiction 
(unless  there  be  good  reason  for  it),  and  cordial  without 
dissimulation  n)ecause  men  like  to  know  those  with 
whom  they  act).  But  he  wih  open  himself  more  or  less 
to  different  friends,  according  to  the  degree  of  intimacy 
which  exists  between  them.  ''There  are  melancholy 
persons,  who  are  delighted  when  any  one  reveals  to 
them  his  defects ;  but  from  such  characters  one  ought 
rather  to  hide  oneself;  for  their  imagination  being  strong, 
they  will  philosophise  for  ten  years  or  more  on  the  most 
trimi^  imperfection.  Further,  why  reveal  imperfect 
tions  f  are  they  not  visible  enough  of  themselves  ?  B  j 
no  means,  therefore,  is  it  expedient  to  make  them  mam- 
feat;  but  it  is  good  to  confess  them.'*  He  thua  regu- 
lates hii  demeanour  with  reffard  to  these  three  cilaisM, 
ijbt  bufmiamt,  the  libanl  or  fntknai^f  tad  tha 


I.  L] 


fT.  VmANCIf  ]>■  lALll. 


ll 


vdaneholT :  ''To  the  impertment  I  will  absolutely 
aide  myself.  To  the  liberal,  if  only  they  fear  God,  I 
riU  absolutely  reveal  myself,  and  speak  to  tnem  with 
•a  open  heart.  To  the  melancholy  I  will  merely  show 
myself,  as  the  proverb  has  it,  exjeneitrd,  from  behind 
Uw  latriee ;  that  is,  I  will  partly  open  myself  to  tliem 
(because  such  people  have  a  great  curiosity  to  see  mto 
the  hearts  of  men,  and  where  they  see  one  too  much 
restrained,  they  are  suddenly  suspicious);  and  I  will 
partly  conceal  myself  (because  sucn  persons  are  accus- 
omed  too  closely  to  watch  and  philosophise  on  the  cha- 
ftoters  of  those  who  associate  with  them)." 

4.  As  he  finds  himself,  for  the  most  part,  obliged 
to  meet  persons  of  very  various  ranks,  he  wishes  to  ad- 
nut  his  manners  accordingly.  To  his  superiors  in  age, 
profession,  or  authority,  he  resolves  to  show  an  ex- 
quisitely pdiished  demeanour  (nonnisi  exquisitum  oS' 
tendenavm  e»t)\  to  his  equals,  ^ood  manners;  and  a 
sertain  indifiference  towards  his  mferiors.  The  reason 
he  gives  for  this  distinction  is,  that  great  and  wise  per- 
ions  are  fond  of  thst  exquisite  polish  which  he  resolves 
o  use  towards  the  first  class,  whilst  the  second  would 
July  think  it  afifec  ation,  and  the  third  a  disapeeable 
rravity.  If  he  fnds  himself  brought  into  mtimate 
nendship  with  tht  great,  he  will  then  be  particularly 
jtizioQS  (for  tbr/  may  be  compared  to  fire,  a  good 
hinff  to  approa^ii  sometimes,  but  not  to  approach  too 
jearly).  Th^.efore,  in  their  presence,  he  will  show 
treat  modesty,  tempered  with  an  honourable  freedom 
(because  tb4  great  luce  to  be  loved  and  to  be  respected; 
and  love  eauees  freedom,  and  modesty  respect).  It  is 
therefore  arood  to  use  a  little  freedom  in  the  society  of 
the  great,  out  not  so  as  to  omit  respect;  and  the  respect 
must  be  greater  than  the  freedom.  Amongst  equals, 
freedom  and  respect  must  be  equal ;  towards  inferiors, 
freedom  must  be  greater  than  respect;  but  the  oon- 
traiT  must  be  observed  with  ^reat  and  superior  persons. 

Such  were  the  wise  maxims  which  this  youth  of 
flf htetB  «r  trmtj  laid  dowa  for  hii  oonduot  in  th* 


T 


y'l 


1$ 


trr,  vmxdom  »m  li  iia. 


I  i- 


J 


fi    - 


i        k 


world.  Not  graater  iiuiffht  into  the  human  heart  ii 
difplajad  in  an  assay  of  Lord  Bacon's,  or  a  chapter  of 
the  rhetoric  of  Aristotle;  no^^  more  refined  or  subtle  ap- 
preciation of  society  ia  to  he  found  m  Chesterfield  o** 
La  Bniydre.  People  are  too  apt  to  imagine  that  this 
acuteness  and  pohsh  cannot  be  conjoined  with  devu- 
tion  or  simplicity.  They  should  study  the  character  of 
Francis,  who  in  these  rf^solutions  shows  how  completely 
the  true  Cathciic,  nay  even  the  heroic  and  saintly  de- 
▼otee,  may  more  than  rival  the  comtier  and  the  states- 
man in  good  breeding  and  the  most  fin/jshed  politeness. 
These  mftTima  of  Francis  de  Sales  became  known  to  his 
firienda  in  the  university,  and  they  obtained  copies  of 
them,  in  order  to  guide  tiieir  own  manners  on  the  pat- 
tern of  his. 

Whilst  at  Padua,  he  was  attacked  with  a  violent 
hftr,  which  brought  him  to  the  ?)rink  of  the  grave, 
throuffhout  which  illness  he  showed  ohe  most  heroic  re- 
funation.  One  very  singular  instance  is  recorded  of 
hia  charity  on  this  oo/asion.  Wlien  asked  by  his  tutor 
what  were  his  wishes  with  regard  to  his  ^neral,  he  re- 
plied, that  he  had  only  one  request  to  make,  which  was, 
that  his  body  might  be  given  to  the  medical  students 
for  dissection.  When  the  Abbd  D^age  exclaimed  in 
horro?  at  this  proposal,  the  holy  youth  replied,  that  he 
would  feel  it  a  great  consolation  to  think  that,  having 
been  so  useless  during  life,  he  should  at  least  be  of 
some  service  after  he  was  dead,  by  supplying  the  medical 
students  with  a  subject  not  purchased  at  the  cost  cf  quar- 
rels and  murder.  The  fact  was,  that  in  the  University  of 
Padua  the  most  terrible  scenes  used  to  occur  in  conse- 
quence of  this  difficulty.  The  medical  students,  in  their 
eagerness  to  obtain  subjects  for  dissection,  used  to  rifle 
the  churchyards;  the  townsmen  rushed,  with  arms  in 
their  hands,  to  prevent  this,  and  sanguinary  conflicts  &ni 
the  bitterest  feelings  were  the  results.  There  was,  there- 
fore, real  wisdom  in  this  proposal,  which  at  first  might 
hare  been  thought  the  vaen  extravagance  of  delurium. 
Bt  WM  pnfteti^  Mriow  i»  16 ;  aid  ua  norifioe  wooii 


ea.!.] 


•T.  FEA Vm  Bl  lALl 


ir 


|irolmbI J  htT«  done  mucb  to  brings  aboat  fomo  bettor  r»* 
giilation :  however,  it  was  not  needed ;  for  he  soon  after 
recovered,  almost  miraculously,  at  the  moment  when  ha 
was  thought  to  be  in  the  very  af^onies  of  death.  Ha 
oompletea  his  education  at  Padua  with  eztraordinarj 
distinction :  and  the  ceremony  of  conferrinj^  on  him  the 
dep'ee  of  doctor  of  laws  was  celebrated  with  the  moit 
unusual  pom)),  and  in  a  manner  ^vhich  showed  that  ha 
was  looked  ui>on  as  the  very  brijiflitest  ornament  of  tht 
university,  it  tuok  place  on  September  5,  1591,  when 
Francis  was  twenty-foiu*  years  of  aee.  Forty-eig^ht 
doctors  assembled  on  the  occasion ;  and  Ptmcirolus  ure- 
sided  and  conducted  the  examination.  The  candiaata 
answered  in  the  most  brilUant  manner ;  after  which  Pan* 
cirolus  addressed  him  in  a  s])eech,  in  which  he  compli* 
mented  him  in  the  highest  terms  on  his  admirable 
career,  alluding  not  only  to  his  learning,  but  to  tha 
astonishing  example  of  purity,  goodness,  and  charity 
which  he  bad  alforded  to  the  university.  In  the  midft 
of  a  luxurious  city  he  had  preserved  himself  unstained ; 
like  the  fountain  of  Arethusa  in  the  old  Grecian  fahla, 
which  mingled  its  waters  with  the  sea  without  contract- 
ing aught  of  their  bitterness.  ^  Francis  de  Sales  rephed 
in  an  elegant  oration,  m  which,  after  alluding  to  tha 
benefits  he  had  derived  from  his  studies  in  the  Univefi- 
sity  of  Paris, — where,  he  said,  *'  the  very  roofs  and  wallf 
seemed  to  speak  philoso})hy,'* —  he  expressed  his  deep 
sense  of  the  ouligntion  he  was  under  to  the  University  of 
Padua  for  the  legal  wisdom  which  its  schools  alforaed, 
mentioning  three  professors  to  whom  he  was  in  par* 
ticular  indebted,  Pancirolus,  Menochius,  and  Matnea* 
ceus.  He  concluded  ))y  rendenng  thanks  to  Jesus 
Christ,  to  our  Blessed  Lady,  to  his  angel-^iardian, 
and  to  his  holy  patron,  St.  Francis  of  Assisi, — eujut 
nomine  (said  he)  vocnri  plvrimum  deleetor.  He  then 
received  from  Pancirolus  the  doctor's  cap  and  ring, 
amidst  the  applauses  of  all  present ;  and  was  conducted 
to  his  house  by  the  entire  assembly,  the  city  itealf  r»> 
Nudng  it  ha  paiMd  b J.  Tha  effect  which  bin  ohtiMl^v 


i     i 


■m  tr.  FBAHOn  dm  iALM^ 

•foi  St  «nii  Terf  earlj  a^,  prxxliioed  upon  all  wlio  null 
Urn,  ii  one  of  the  most  sinmilar  proofs  of  his  ^reatneM. 
We  read  that  there  was  sudi  a  charm  ahout  his  appear* 
tnoe,  something  so  sweet  and  noble,  that  people  used 
to  watch  in  the  street  for  an  opportunity  to  see  him  ai 
he  passed  by.  The  greatest  things  were  expected  from 
him  eveu  at  the  very  earliest  stage  of  his  career. 

Heqditted  Padua  towards  the  end  of  the  year;  and, 
preyious  to  returning  home,  he  made  the  pilgrimage 
to  Rome  and  Lcititto,  visiting  also  Venice,  Milan,  and 
•ther  citiM  of  particular  interest  in  the  north  of  Italy. 
At  Rome  he  fed  his  devotion  with  continual  visits  to 
die  varioiks  sanctuaries  and  relics  of  primitive  antiquity. 
A.  long  li^t  is  given  by  his  earliest  biographer  of  the 
ohurcheis  &nd  other  places  which  he  r'jsited  with  most 
devotion.  These  were  the  Coliseum,  and  the  churchei 
of  SS.  Peter  and  Paul,  St  Mary  Major's,  Santa  Groce, 
and  SS.  Sebastian  and  Laurence,  every  whera  honour- 
mg  the  holy  relics  which  were  p.«eseiTed  in  these  placet 
resfiectively.  He  also  thoroughly  inspected  all  tne  re- 
mains of  Roman  ^prandeur  in  the  ISterral  City ;  the  chief 
imnression  he  derived  from  w'lioh  was,  the  transitorineas 
ana  emptiness  of  earthly  greatness,  and  its  intrinsie 
weakness  as  opposed  to  the  dominion  of  the  Church 
which  has  overtnrown  it.  Wliilst  at  Rome  he  had  a 
remarkable  escape :  he  had  been  obliged  to  leave  the 
lodgings  he  had  taken,  in  consequence  of  the  arrival  of 
some  noblemen  of  high  rank,  to  whnm  the  landlord  was 
tempted  to  give  the  preference ;  the  very  next  night, 
the  nouse  and  all  who  were  in  it  were  swept  away  by  a 
sudden  inundation  of  the  Tiber.  At  Loretto  his  devo- 
tion was  extraordinary ;  and  the  Abb6  DSage,  who  saw 
him  whilst  he  was  praying  in  the  Holy  House,  was  so' 
struck  with  his  demeanour  and  appearance,  that  ever 
after  he  regarded  him  with  a  degieo  of  reverence  which 
M)proached  to  veneration :  his  face  appc<v  od  actually  in- 
named,  and  to  dart  out  rays  of  Hght  like  a  star.  The 
same  phenomenon  appears  more  than  once  in  his  subae* 
fMBt  biftoiy.  fVomIiQrttto]Mwiiilt«AJMoa%ir]Mn 


'■  \ 


•T.  f  BANOIf  DB  lALn^ 

b«  Ibumd  a  resMl  about  to  safl  for  Ytmm.  A  N«> 
politan  lady  and  her  suite  bad  engaged  it;  but  tbi 
master  of  tne  ship  was  willing  also  to  take  Francis  and 
bis  party.  When  the  lady  uiew  of  this,  she,  in  a  pai* 
sionate  manner,  forbade  the  ship-master  to  take  tnest 
additional  passengers.  Francis  remonstrated  with  bii 
usual  high-bred  courtesy,  but  in  vain;  the  lady  obliged 
the  captain  to  set  sail  without  them.  Strange  to  say, 
before  the  ship  had  proceeded  very  far,  and  wnile  Fran- 
cis was  yet  watching  it,  one  of  those  sudden  squalli 
common  in  the  Mediterranean  came  on ;  the  ship  was 
engulfed,  and  every  soul  on  board  perished.  Franoia 
took  the  next  opportunity  to  sail  for  Cattolica,  a  little 
town  between  Ancona  and  Venice.  On  this  voyage  hi 
himself  had  a  very  narrow  escape  from  shipwreck,  but 
arrived  safely  at  Cattolica,  and  from  thence  proceeded 
to  Venice,  where  he  remained  some  time.  This  com- 
pleted his  travels.  He  returned  homewards,  passing 
by  Pavia,  Milan,  Turin,  and  arriving  at  bis  tatbeM 
ooAtMii  of  Ia  Thuille  in  the  spring  of  Jie  year  1598i 


!i 


11 


n 


OBAPTIB  n. 

■■  TOOATKW  TO  TB>  BOOUIBTAtTKUL  Vtk' 

tH»  oomrmATunrr  or  thb  bolt  cboml 

FsAircis  DB  Sales  was  now  twentyfive  yean  Oid. 

•nd  perhaps  one  of  the  most  finishen  grentlemen  mm 

learned  jurists  of  his  age,  as  most  certainly  in  holineti 

he  was  surpassed  by  no  one.     By  his  father's  order  he 

tow  took  tiie  title  of  Seigneur  de  V^illarooret,  this  being 

•ne  of  the  lortiships  in  the  [Mssession  of  the  family ;  the 

title  of  which,  as  was  customary  at  the  time,  was  borne 

by  the  eldest  son.     He  took  an  early  op{>ortunity,  after 

kis  return,  to  call  upon  the  venerable  Bishop  of  O^ 

neTa,  Claude  de  Ornnier,-— a  visit  which  coloured  the 

whole  of  his  subsequent  career;  leading,  as  it  did,  firet 

to  his  bein<r  nominated  to  the  office  of  provost  of  the 

cathedral  ciinpter  of  (jl(>neva,  next  to  that  of  coadjutor 

to  the  bishop,  and  Bnally  to  his  own  elevation  to  the 

•ee  of  Geneva.     The  aged  prelate  receivjd  him  with 

the  utmost  distinction.     He  had  from  the  very  first  n 

tresentiment,  which  he  did  not  hesitate  to  ex|)re8s  to 

lis  clergy,  that  this  young  nobleman  would  live  to  be 

lis  successor  in  the  episcopate.    The  idea  even  haimted 

lis  dreams ;  and  the  old  man  saw,  in  prophetic  vision, 

the  career  of  the  future  saint  prefigured  by  mysterious 

emblems.     He  imagined  he  saw  him  engaged  in  the 

chase  in  the  mountainsof  Savoy,  slnuglitering  the  wolves^ 

bears,  and  ether  fierce  animals,  which  fumished  but  t<io 

faithful  a  type  of  the  heresies  which  devastated  the 

flock  intrusted  to  his  care.     He  made  the  youthiiil 

Francis,  tliough  habited  in  his  laical  dress,  anil  girt 

with  the  sword,  which  indicated  his  rank  in  the  wo''Id, 

assist  at  an  a.<isembly  of  theologians;  and  made  hint 

express  his  opmion  on  a  difficult  point  wliich  huA  em* 

bimssed  all  the  dispatanti,  and  which  he  solTcd  wi^ 


I       : 


}  1 


M.II.J 


tl 


llwl  Ivdd  thunem  whieh  wii  imeli  a  ehMraoCariitie  o 

Though  th«  Tooation  of  Francis  to  thejpriesthootf 
wai  thus  beeozning  mora  and  mora  marked  ever} 
daj,  his  father  was  still  bent  upon  carving  out  for  him 
a  widely  different  career.  M.  de  Boisy  insisted  upor 
his  proceeding  to  the  bajn  and  Francis  aid  not  considei 
it  his  du^  to  resist.  Bfe  was  appointed  advocate  m 
the  supreme  court  or  senate  of  Savoy,  on  November  24, 
1692.  The  nomination  was  accompanied  with  circum* 
stances  of  extraordinary  distinction :  the  highest  ho- 
Hours  in  the  state  seemed  opened  before  him ;  and  ha 
contracted  with  the  most  iUustrious  and  learned  mem- 
ber of  that  profession  in  Savoy,  Antoine  Favre,  a 
friendship  so  mtimate,  that  they  called  each  other  by 
the  name  of  brother. 

Francis  had  only  bnen  called  to  the  bar  a  very  short 
ime,  when  a  E'ngular  incident  occurred,  in  which  he 
iiscerued  the  u  ucation  of  the  will  of  God  leading  him 
to  a  dilferent  pa.h.  In  ^.ravelling  with  the  old  priesty 
his  preceptor,  through  the  forest  cf  Sonnz,  near  Annecy, 
his  norse  thrice  s\  vnbled,  and  threw  him,  gallant  ca- 
valier as  he  was,  •>  the  ground.  He  noticed,  each 
time  on  rising,  that  his  9word  had  fallen  out  of  the 
scabbard,  and  tlie  scaubaid  horn  off  his  bald  rick;  and 
that  all  three  times  the  sword  and  the  scabbai-d  had 
formed  an  exact  cross  on  tlie  ground.  Francis,  though 
the  least  superstitious  of  mtink'nd,  was  much  struck  by 
the  circumstiince,  which,  tiitlu^g  as  it  was,  seemed  to 
have  a  divine  significance,  when  his  thoughts  wera 
already  so  strongly  setting-  in  the  direction  of  the 
sacred  ministry.  lie  decido  I  on  entering  the  ecclesias- 
tica!  state;  but  did  not  iintn«vdiat4<ly  confide  his  resolu- 
tion to  his  father,  pret'errlDg  to  wait  till  Divine  Provi- 
dence afforded  him  some  favt>ural)le  op]K)itunity.  Such 
an  occasion  very  soon  afterwards  occurred.  M-  de  Bois\ 
believed  that  he  had  secured  a  nio^t  favourable  matcL 
for  the  youthful  advocate.  Mademoiselle  de  Vegy,  tha 
kdj  OB  whom  hA  EimL  bii  ohoioe,  balom;ad  t*  mm  df 


I  ' 


■Si 


•T.  nUHOIf  DM  BALWk 


At  icUmiI  ftnilkf  ill  flfttoji  wm  waahhT^  snd  k 
flfoy  WAj  Jkslj  to  bftTa  promoted  his  ton's  worldlj 
nppmeM.  Francii  seized  the  opportunitj  to  deolaio 
to  his  father  the  fixed  purpose  which  he  had  formed  of 
beooming  a  priest  The  Idnd-hearted  but  somewhat 
ambitious  old  noble  was  deeply  grieyed  at  this  resolu- 
tion. Whilst  he  was  vainly  endeavouring  to  combat  ity 
another  ciroumstanoe  arose  which  added  to  the  painfiil- 
BflSi  of  the  sacrifice  M.  de  Boisy  was  now  called  upon 
to  makoi  as  it  showed  very  cleiEU'ly  that  he  was  by  no 
means  mistaken  in  the  lofty  estimate  he  had  formed  of 
his  son's  prospects  of  success.  The  court  of  Savoy 
offered,  and  even  pressed  upon  the  young  lord  of  Vil- 
laroget  to  accept  the  office  of  senator  in  the  couit  of 
Chaimb^.  It  was  the  highest  distinction  in  the  power 
of  the  government  to  give,  and  such  as  a  man  of  the 
world  oould  not  have  sacrificed  for  his  son  without 
•ente  mortification.  The  friends  of  Francis  sought 
to  soften  the  blow  to  M.  at>  fioisy  by  obv.^icdng  for 
lus  son  the  ecclesiastical  offi  je  of  provost  of  the  cathe- 
dral church  of  Geneva.  This  Francis  accepted  in  the 
month  of  May  1693,  and  expressed  to  his  father  finally 
tiiat  his  mind  was  made  up.  A  scene  ensued  which 
was  exquisitely  distressing  to  flesh  and  blood.  M.  de 
Boisy  was  completely  overcome,  but  at  last  reconciled 
himself  generously  to  the  will  of  Almighty  God,  and 

Eve  his  unreserved  blessing  to  his  son  upon  entering 
I  new  career.  However  overwhehning  the  saorifioo 
might  be  at  the  time,  it  was  soon  made  up  to  him  ■ 
thousandfold ;  and  the  public  joy  with  whicn  the  whole 
dty  of  Annecy  received  it  was  a  type  of  the  gladness 
which  the  episcopate  of  Francis  de  Sales  was  oestined 
to  difinse  over  the  whole  Church. 

He  received  the  minor  orders  on  June  8th,  1698; 
and  four  days  after,  on  the  eve  of  Trinity  Sunday,  he 
was  raised  to  be  sub-deacon ;  on  the  18th  of  December 
of  the  same  year  he  was  raised  to  the  dignitr  of  tht 
priesthood.  From  the  very  first  he  oommenoed  a  most 
Mlif o  miaiiQMiy  ]i£i|  and  Ail  biognphj  •!  (hia  pmod  il 


-i^ 


'!:^ 


M.  ii*J  ir.  nuiroii  di  ialu.  IB 

IkUhk  intratfaig  in  a  partioular  nuuuMr,  it  iffiBid* 
lag  Tsluabla  detaili  of  a  oonfraternity  wbioU  he  foundad 
tlffonghoat  tha  diooesa  of  Oeneya.    He  relied  lerj 
mnoh  on  tha  adTantages  of  these  institutionsi  as  ena- 
bling, hj  the  force  ofoombmation,  the  weak  to  resist 
temptationi  and  affording  to  all  the  means  of  making 
rapid  progress  in  grace.     The  association  which  ha 
founded  was  called  the  "  Confraternity  of  Penitents  of 
the  Holy  Cross,  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  and  of 
the  Apostles  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul.''    the  idea  of  it 
waS|  tnat  the  members  should  do  continual  penance  for 
their  own  sins  and  for  those  of  others :  and  as  thej 
wars  living  in  a  heretic  country  where  the  Holy  Crosi 
was  continually  outraged,  it  was  to  be  an  especial  devo- 
tion with  them  to  repair  these  insults  by  uieir  adora- 
tion and  love.    The  selection  of  the  title  of  the  Im- 
aiLCulate  Conception  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  is  one  of 
tha  many  instances  of  the  far-reaching  character  of 
i^rancis's  views.    Every  Catholic  has  heard  of  the  im- 
mense tide  of  miraculous  graces  and  favours  which  haf 
attended  in  our  own  times  the  establishment  of  a  con* 
fratemi^  under  the  same  invocation.    The  principal 
ndes  of  the  new  Confraternity  of  the  Holy  Croit 
were  tha  following.    The  members  were  to  communi- 
cate on  the  Feasts  of  the  Invention  and  of  the  Exalta- 
tion of  the  Holy  Cross,  of  the  Conception  of  the  B.Vii 
of  the  Apostles  SS.  Peter  and  Paul,  and  on  the  second 
Sunday  of  every  month.   On  these  festivals  the  Blessed 
Sacrament  was  to  be  exposed  all  day ;  and  there  wert 
always  to  be  two  brethren  enppaged  in  adoration  for  tha 
space  of  an  hour  for  oertam  special  objects,  among 
which  were  the  preservation  of  the  Faith  and  the  con- 
version of  heretics.    Thus  we  see  that  he  m  some  mea^ 
sore  anticipated  the  idea  of  the  Confraternities  of  Per 
petual  Adoration.   We  find  ales,  in  the  rules  which  ha 
established,  traces  of  another  d&votion  now  greally  &• 
voursd  in  the  Church.    Once  a  day  they  were  to  ra- 
oita  five  PaUrs  and  five  Av6a  in  hcnour  of  tha  fiva 
fwdaafofliawltkiiriiiig  and  with  haad 


! 


I  ^l 


'lit 


'|i 


wh&Niw9r  th«j  htppoMd  to  be,  eren  in  thu  ftiMti  m 

EfaUo  plMet.  llfln,  on  the  feitiTali  we  have  men* 
ned  tbere  wai  to  be  a  public  prooeHion  of  the 
brethren,  chanting  prayen  or  reciting  the  chaplet 
Tlie  Tinting  of  the  iick,  and  the  accompanying  of  the 
Blesseti  Sacrament  when  it  was  brought  to  then. ,  the 
veoonciliation  of  such  of  the  bretliren  as  were  at  ran* 
tncp  or  at  law  with  each  other,— were  among  the  actire 
works  of  mercy  they  were  enjoined  to  perform.  We 
lee  in  the  general  spirit  which  pervades  thene  rulea. 
that  practical,  and  at  the  same  time  that  tender  and 
eonsiaerate  cliaracter,  by  which  all  the  inttitutioni 
and  views  of  Francis  were  penetrated.  No  austeritiea 
■re  appointed^  nothing  that  need  alarm  even  the  meet 
■ickly  and  innrm ;  but  a  considerable  sacrifice  of  human 
respect,  the  oractice  of  the  works  of  mercy,  and  the  ha- 
bitual use  of  certain  devotionr,  which  long  experience 
has  shown  to  be  the  most  calculated  to  advance  souli 
i  long  way  in  a  short  time.  Ilis^  cheerful  and  kindlr 
•pirit  id  beautifully  displayed  in  the  history  of  a  pil- 
grimage which  he  and  his  confraternity  made  to  Ail 
m  Savoy,  where  a  relic  of  the  true  Cross  had  for  agei 
attracted  the  devotion  of  the  faithful.  Never  was  the 
▼alue  of  this  holy  practice  of  p*!^mages  more  strik- 
ingly shown  than  on  this  occasion ;  in  the  joy  with 
which  all  the  devout  penitents  joined  in  the  ioumeTy 
tinging  litanies  as  they  went ;  in  the  order  wiiich  tne 
wise  director  established  throughout ;  and  in  the  hospi- 
tality afforded  them  by  a  holy  and  religious  nobleman, 
the  Baron  de  Cusey.  It  was  a  fair  and  lovely  picture 
ef  the  antioue  Catholic  life,  which  in  our  own  days,  at 
places  hke  Fouvidres  and  La  Salette,  has  been  restored 
with  such  advantage  and  edification  to  the  faithful. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  Fmncis  applied 
himself  with  extraordinary  diligence  to  all  the  duties  of 
the  secular  priest,  ministering  ot  the  destitiste,  preach- 
^,  and  hearng  confessions  inoessuntly.  We  shall  ia 
»  Uter  portion  of  this  volume  wdeavour  to  charaeter> 
ti    kim  kk  tktM  MjMcitiaei  u  thia  pUoa  wa  ahatt 


I    i 


mlj  mentioB  tn  uiiiiiing  aneedoto^  in  which  the  old 
Bobleman,  hii  father,  ezprested  nil  cpinion  of  tho 
modem  itjle  of  preachings,  which  Francis  de  Salai 
WM  amongp  the  nnt  to  introduce.  Francis  himael^ 
manj  yean  after,  taid  to  the  Bishop  of  Delley :  **  1 
had  the  best  father  in  the  world ;  but  he  had  passed  i 

rt  part  of  his  life  at  court  and  in  military  sendee^ 
manims  of  which  he  knew  better  than  theology. 
Whilst  I  was  nrovost,  I  preached  on  every  occasion,  af 
well  in  the  cathedral  as  in  the  parish-churches,  and  even 
fai  the  humblest  confraternities.  I  knew  not  how  to 
refuse,  so  dear  to  me  was  that  word  of  our  Lord's^ 
Omni  petenti  H  te  tribtte — spve  to  every  one  that 
■sketh  thee  (Luke  vi.  30).  My  good  father,  hearing 
the  bell  ring  for  the  sermon,  asked  who  preached;  they 
laid  to  him.  Who  should  it  be  but  your  son  ?  One  day 
he  took  me  aside,  and  said  to  me:  'Provost,  vou 
preach  too  often ;  I  hear  even  on  working-days  the  Dell 
ring  for  the  sermon ;  and  they  always  say  to  me,  It  if 
the  provost,  the  provost.     In  my  time  it  was  not  so ; 

Sredieations  were  much  more  rare;  but  also,  what  pre- 
ications  they  were  I  God  knows  they  were  learned 
well  studied ;  they  spoke  marvels ;  they  quoted  more 
Latin  and  Greek  in  one  of  them  than  you  do  in  ten; 
•very  body  was  deli|>rhted  and  edified  with  them ;  they 
ran  to  them  in  crowds ;  you  would  have  said  thev  were 
going  to  gather  manna.  Now-a-days  you  make  thif 
exercise  so  common,  that  nobody  regtirds  it,  and  ther 
let  no  value  on  you.'  Do  you  see  (remarked  Fmncish 
this  good  father  spoke  as  he  understood,  and  with  all 
freedom;  he  spoke  according  to  the  maxims  of  tho 
world  in  which  lie  had  been  brought  up:  but  the  evan* 

Eelical  maxims  are  altogether  of  another  stamp;  Jesus 
hrist,  the  mirror  of  {terfection  and  the  model  of 
preachers,  did  not  use  all  tliese  circumsipections,  any 
more  than  the  Apostles  who  followed  His  st€^)8.  Be- 
lieve me,  people  can  never  preach  enough :  nun^uam 
tatit  dieitur  qttod  nuni{uam  iatis  dutcitur;  above  ally 
•0ir-*-<Uji  and  in  tht  naighbovhood  of  hwttj^ 

147152 


UNIVERSITY  OF  WINDSOR  LIBRARY 


tr.  FiiAiroii  Di  lAim 


\  ■    :i 
!     1 


Hi 


i!i! 


only  mMn1.aifiH  itself  by  the  prSehei,  and  trill  B0f«  bt 
eonquered  but  by  preachin;^.  His  oondaot  ai  a  eon- 
fessor  was  such  as  could  only  be  expressed  by  meta*- 
phors  drawn  from  the  tenderness  of  a  mother  or  the 
watchfulness  of  an  angel-guardian.  With  regard  to 
the  whole  office  of  the  priesthood,  he  had  formed,  in  hif 
retreat  preparatory  to  ordination,  three  resolutions  by 
which  he  governed  himself.  One  was,  to  make  all  hu 
actions  a  continual  preparation  for  the  samfice  of  the 
altar;  so  that  if  at  any  moment  he  was  asked  what  he 
was  about,  he  might  say  with  truth,  ''  I  am  preparing 
to  say  Mass."  His  second  resolution  was,  never  to 
ascend  the  altar  except  in  the  same  frame  of  mind  ho 
would  have  had  if  he  were  about  to  die.  And  the  thirds 
to  unite  himself  in  every  thing  to  Jesus  Christ,  by  tho 
thought  of  His  love  and  the  imitation  of  His  example. 
So  great  a  soul  as  that  of  Francis  de  Sales,  acting  upon 
maxims  like  these,  could  not  but  immediately  produoo 
the  noblest  fruits  of  edification;  and  a  ministry  like  hif 
would  be  worthy  of  remembrance,  had  it  lasted  but  a 
week,  and  been  limited  to  the  quiet  scenes  of  the  old 
Catholic  provincial  capital  where  he  Uved.  But  he  bad 
scarcely  laboured  there  half  a  yeai,  before  he  was  tiUB- 
Boned  to  a  wider  sphere,  w£n«  ho  aanod  vrm  thi 
of  apoitki 


'I  ■ 


OBAPTBB  m. 

■anov  nr  tma  mriwiTi   nt  bablt 


eould  Boaroelj  imagine  a  mere  interesting^  stadj 
fer  the  Gatholio  missioner  of  the  present  daj,  placed 
•midst  vast  masses  of  population  alien  to  the  faith,  than 
that  which  is  a£Pordea  by  Francis  de  Sales'  mission  to 
the  districts  on  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  belonging  at  that 
time  partly  to  the  house  of  Savoy,  partly  to  France. 
These  districts  were  the  duchy  of  Chabuus,  and  the 
hailiwicks  of  Oex,  Temier,  and  Gaillard.    After  the 
restless  citizens  of  Geneva  had  thrown  off  the  yoke  both 
of  their  Prince*bishop  and  of  his  lay  rival  the  Duke 
if  Savoy,  the  possession  of  these  provinces,  lying  alonff 
Jie  borders  ot  their  lake,  and  almost  witlun  view  m 
their  eity,  became  naturally  an  object  of  their  anziouf 
tmbition,  and  almost  necessary  to  their  poUtical  exist- 
ence.    The  war  between  Francis  I.  and  Emmanuel- 
Philibert  of  Savoy  supplied  them  with  an  opportunitj 
of  seizing  on  the  coveted  possessions ;  and  the  Cathoho 
religion  was  rooted  up  in  them  with  all  that  sacrilegi- 
ons  fury  which  characterised  the  pretended  Reformation 
ivery  where.    Churches  were  desecrated,  abbeys  de- 
molished, crosses  overthrown;  and  a  feeble  remnant  oi 
Cathohce  alone  remained  in  what  had  but  lately  been 
a  fine  and  richly-adorned  portion  of  the  Lord's  vine- 
yard.   The  provinces  were,  indeed,  again  surrendered 
by  the  Swiss  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy  when  peace  was 
eoncluded  between  Henry  IL  of  France  and  Emmanuel- 
Philibert ;  but  the  treaty  expressly  guaranteed  that  the 
Cathoho  religion  should  not  be  re-established.    The  re- 
ligious con(|uest,  therefore,  survived,  though  the  politi- 
cal dominion  changed ;  and  so  matters  went  on,  till,  is 
the  reign  of  Charles- Emmanuel,  the  son  of  the  last* 
■mtiiiiod  fviaoi^  thoO«MftM  MiMd  tU  poTiaoia  §m 


I 

I 


:;r 


a  I 


I    1  ! 


iiii 


I 


m  tr.  VBAHOIl  DB  tALBli 

the  Moond  time.  Thia  usurpation  ended  most  fort» 
nately  for  Catholicity ;  since  Divine  Providence  occa* 
lioued  bj  that  event  the  wonderful  mission  by  which 
Francis  de  Sales  brought  back  those  thickly-peopled 
and  beautiful  regions  to  the  Catholic  faith.  Charles^i 
Emmanuel  very  speedily  reduced  them  to  subjection ; 
and  then,  as  he  justly  considiered  their  revolt  nad  re- 
leased him  from  the  obligations  of  the  treaty  by  wliioh 
they  were  originally  restored  to  his  father,  he  deter- 
mined on  effecting  the  re-establishment  of  the  Catholic 
religion  throughout  those  distincts.  Had  he  even  used 
eompulsion  to  make  his  subjects  renew  their  allegiance 
to  the  faith  as  well  as  to  tlie  government  A'om  which 
they  had  revolted,  Protestants  at  least  would  have  had 
no  right  to  com))iain ;  since  the  so-called  Heformation 
was  undeniably  carried  by  violence  and  rapine,  and 
■tood  towards  the  sovereigns  of  £uru))e  precisely  at 
Socialism,  its  logical  develojiment,  does  at  present.  liut. 
with  that  moderation  and  ])rudence  which  characterised 
for  many  generations  the  house  of  Savoy,  Charles- 
Emmanuel  resolved  to  adopt  the  method  of  gentleness 
rather  than  that  of  force ;  and  if  he  used  the  steel 
gauntlet,  to  swathe  it  in  velvet.  He  accordingly  de- 
sired the  Bishop  of  Geneva  to  select  a  certain  number 
of  ecclesiastics  of  edifying  Ufe  and  adequate  learning,  to 
be  sent  as  missionaries  into  the  reconquered  provinces. 
The  bishop  accordingly  sent  to  Tlionou  a  worthy  and 
■ealous  pnest  nameu  Bouchut,  who  encountered'  such 
difficulties  on  the  part  of  the  rude  and  intractable  )X>- 
pulation,  that  he  remained  but  a  short  time,  and  re* 
tuiiied  quite  in  despair  of  effecting  any  thing  undei 
existing  circumstances.  Upon  this  the  bishop,  aftei 
some  delav,  called  together  an  assembly  of  his  clergy 
in  the  cathedral  of  Annecy,  and  asked  their  advice  and 
assistance.  His  harangue,  although  recommended  by 
his  gentle  piety  and  venerable  old  age,  seemed  likely 
to  mil  of  resimnse.  The  clergy  remained  in  moumiiU 
•ilenoe;  mucu  like  the  Israelites  of  old,  terrihf^d  by  the 
iMtfiBaliiMi  of  tbt  daoff  en  wluoh  bdMt 


i 


m.] 


•r.  FKAiroif  Da  ialh. 


into  the  promiBed  land.  A  more  disconrag^fi^  proroee<^ 
indeed,  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  them  to  oaTt 
pictured  to  their  minds.  A  population  which  for  liz^ 
years  had  been  alienated  from  the  faith ;  amonsr  whoa 
Calyinism  was  regularly  estabUshed ;  close  to  UeneT% 
the  very  head-quarters,  "  the  Rome  of  heresy/'  af 
Francis  caUs  it,  and  identifying  its  urofession  of  ueresy 
with  the  political  independence  oi  which  it  had  just 
been  deprived.  Every  thing  seemed  agiiinst  success; 
and  the  clergy  might  have  thought  that  had  St.  John 
the  Baptist  risen  from  the  dead,  he  had  better  have 
turned  Lis  supernatural  energy  to  any  undertaking  for 
the  glory  of  uod  rather  than  to  this.  Ou?  man  there 
was  m  tliat  assembly,  the  youthful  provost  of  Geneva, 
who  gave  way  to  no  such  discouragements.  Francis 
de  S^es  felt  his  whole  soul  enkindle  at  the  pros})ect 
from  which  the  othera  shmnk,  and  oHered  to  lead  the 
enterprise  himself:  he  advised  that  the  bishop  should 
remain  at  home  to  help  them,  like  another  Mnses,  by 
his  prayers,  and  enter  on  the  Held  only  when  the  har- 
vest was  ready  to  be  reaped ;  for  himiself,  he  asked  foi 
no  assistants  at  present  but  his  cousin  Louis  de  Sales. 

The  bishop  gladly  granted  his  request.  Others 
•eem  to  have  considered  it  a  Quixotic  sort  of  enter 
prise;  and  Francis  had  to  resist  not  only  the  advice  aiM^ 
commands  of  his  father,  but  the  angiush  which  he  v» 
hemently  expressed  on  seeing  his  son  engaged  in  whtt 
he  believed  an  imprudent,  aud  ])erhaps  even  alarming 
enterprise,  in  whicu  his  life  might  at  any  moment  be 
lacrinced  to  the  fury  of  an  heretical  mob.  Even  to 
those  of  his  friends  who  did  not  view  the  matter  in  thii 
light,  one  can  easily  imagine  how  the  highly-boro 
ecclesiastic  must  have  seemed  to  be  ^'  throwing  himsell 
away"  in  going  to  evangelise  the  narrow-minded  magis- 
trates and  uncultivated  ponulntion  of  a  country-town 
and  its  vicinity ;  among  whom,  as  the  result  showed, 
M.  de  Boisy  was  quite  right  in  anticipating  his  son'i 
life  might  be  endangered.  Notwithstanding  all  tmpo* 
litkni  liowefer^  Fn»6ia  and  Louia  de  Siia^  on  oepi 


h^ 


[  '■    'M 


1.1    i 


fl]|»  (594,  Mt  out  from  Annacrf ,  lod  proeeecM  ibit  ti 
the  eoatean  of  Sales^  which  la^  in  their  road.    Here  thej 

rt  a  few  days,  during  which  they  had  to  encountef 
constant  remonstrances  of  M.  ae  Boisy.  In  spite 
of  all  this  vexatious  opposition,  thej  made  full  prepara- 
tions for  their  great  undertakinsp  bj  fasting,  prayer, 
mortifications,  and  a  general  confession.  On  the  even- 
ing of  Sept  Idth,  Francis  bade  farewell  to  his  mother, 
who,  unlilce  his  father,  said  nothing  to  discourage  her 
son  from  his  heroic  mission.  They  spent  a  large  part 
of  the  night  in  prayer  in  the  castle  chai)el,  and  started 
early  on  their  march  next  morning,  toe  Feast  of  the 
Exaltation  of  the  Holy  Cross.  The^  travelled  on  foot,  in 
apostolic  fashion,  imencumbered  with  any  luggage  that 
could  be  spared,  and  canying  no  books  but  the  jBreviary, 
the  Bible,  and  Bellarmine's  Controversies.  Francis  ae 
Sales  was  dressed  in  somewhat  secular  attire,  wearing 
his  hair  short,  and  his  beard  thick  and  bushy,  in  the 
fitfhion  of  the  day.  He  found  this  gave  him  access 
where  a  more  ecclesiastical  garb  would  have  alarmed 
people ;  and  he  was  not  a  man  to  sacrifice  winning  souls 
to  the  Church  for  any  feeling  on  matters  not  of  vital 
importance.  They  arrived  at  Allinges,  a  fortress  on  the 
frontiers  of  the  Ohablais,  by  which  the  Duke  of  Savoy 
kept  the  whole  duchy  in  submission.  It  was  commanded 
by  a  brave  captain,  the  Baron  d'Hermance,  an  old 
mend  of  the  house  of  Sales,  who  received  the  chival* 
rous  missionaries  with  great  kindness,  in  obedience  both 
to  the  orders  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  and  from  a  regard 
for  M.  de  Boisy.  He  led  his  guests  to  the  platform 
of  the  castle,  and  showed  them  the  scene  of  their 
future  labours.  On  every  side  of  the  beautifiil  land 
ieap«>  the  Reformation  had  lefb  traces  of  its  baleful 
eonr^  over  regions  which  were  then  fresh  from  the 
hands  of  the  spoiler.  Churches  in  ruins,  crosses  over- 
tomed,  castles  and  villages  laid  waste,—- such  were  the 
dreary  tokens  of  the  sway  of  the  enemy  whom  Franoie 
WM  letting  out  to  combat.  At  the  aistance  of  time 
hndved  jewi|  the  delioatt  finger  of  time  liai  i&?«ta4 


Itl.i 


•r.  WMMMCm  M  lALMl 


Bonaftie  ndm  with  a  wnt  of  lentimental  oharm,  d 
leut  to  Jimdf  wh^  l«ok  only  at  the  exterior.  No 
nioh  chum  oonld  poflnnbly  have  existed  in  1604,  whea 
penMiDf  were  sdll  living  who  could  recollect  the  time 
when  those  fair  abbeys  had  resounded  with  the  praises 
of  the  Lord,  and  the  kneeling  faithful  worshipped  afi 
ihoie  crosses.  The  ruins  were  but  the  raw  ana  oleed- 
ing  wounds  of  the  Spouse  of  Christ.  Francis  could  not 
restrain  his  tears  at  the  sight,  and  broke  out  into  some 
of  those  mournful  exclamations  with  which  the  ancient 
prophets  bewailed  the  ruins  of  the  holy  city. 

They  then  debated  on  the  plan  of'^action  to  be  jnir* 
ined.  The  baron  drew  a  discoimiging  picture  of^the 
population  Francis  de  Sales  was  undertaking  to  con* 
▼ert.  Ther  were  good  sort  of  people  on  the  whole,  but 
ftupid  audi  slow;  of  the  class  into  whose  head  it  if 
aqiudly  hard  to  get  an  idea  conveyed,  or,  once  con* 
reyed,  to  drive  it  out  again :  their  whole  temporal  in- 
terests too  were  involved,  or  they  supposed  them  to  be 
•0^  in  keeping  good  friends  with  their  neighbours  oi 
Geneva;  and  they  regarded  their  liberties  as  co-existent 
with  the  exercise  of  the  Calvinist  religion.  The  baron 
teoommended  ihe  missionaries  to  go  warily  to  work, 
tad  with  the  utmost  caution.  He  gave  them  letters 
to  the  magistrates  of  the  town;  and  the  two  mission* 
■riiiii  want  forward  on  their  arduous  mission,  unao* 
eompanied  by  any  escort.  He  said  that  they  coula 
oot  safely  skep  m  the  town,  but  must  return  every 
aight  to  the  castle ;  that,  for  the  present,  they  ougM 
oot  to  attempt  more  than  preaching  at  Thonon,  for  it 
would  be  oseless  to  say  Mass  there;  and  he  recom- 
mended them  to  say  it  either  in  the  castle  chapel,  or  at 
Harin,  a  place  still  Catholic,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  Drance,  or  in  an  old  chapel  of  the  monks  of  St 
Bcnard  on  Uie  borders  of  the  lake. 

On  arrivmg  at  Thonon,  they  found,  on  inquiiy^ 
that  there  were  out  seven  Catholic  familifs  in  the  place^ 
Anonntmg  to  not  more  than  fourteen  or  fifteen  soula 
IImit  aiieaiblid  tlmi  tflOTthwi  and  Fnnoii  MLdzmid 


1; 


'i 


Mi 


it 


!/?'    ■ 


Hi^ 


V 

u 

J 


"i 


y 


V  tr.  Fiuirois  in  fiuik 

Aim  with  boly  exhortations,  umoimoing  IiimMlf  ti 
tlMir  pastor ;  and  inviting  them  in  future  to  assemhlt 
at  the  church  of  St.  Hippolytu&,  which  had  been  d** 
dared  common  for  the  service  of  both  reUgions.  TL0J 
then  presented  their  letters  to  the  magistrates,  and  in 
the  evening  returned  to  AlUnges.  They  returned  nait 
day,  and  so  continued ;  preaching  daily  either  in  the 
town  or  the  neighbouring  villages,  whither  they  went 
always  on  foot,  and  stan  in  hand,  like  the  disciples  of 
our  Lord.  It  does  not  Rp|iear  that  at  first  they  had 
to  contend  with  more  tlian  complete  indifference  on  the 
part  of  the  Protestant  inhabitants  of  Thonon.  It  was, 
mdeed,  reported  that  the  ministers  of  Geneva  were  cla- 
mounng  to  have  the  missionaries  whipf>ed  out  of  the 
town ;  but  it  is  not  likely  any  thing  ot  the  kind  would 
have  been  thought  of  by  the  fieople  of  Tlionon,  with 
the  castle  of  A  Hinges  at  the  distance  of  only  six  miles. 
On  several  occasions,  however,  it  is  certain  that  Francis 
was  in  imminent  danger  of  assassination.  On  Jan.  8 
1695,  a  fanatic  (who  afterwards  was  converted  to  the 
fiuth)  made  three  unsuccessful  attempts  to  shoot  him 
and  afterwards  |X)8ted  other  assassins  in  various  placet 
;o  intercept  him,  from  whose  hands  he  miraculously 
reaped.  Similar  attempts  we  shall  have  to  record 
brtuer  on. 

At  present,  and  long  afterwards,  the  holy  mission- 
vies  had  much  anxiety  for  want  of  money.  M.  de 
Boisy,  angry  at  what  he  considered  his  sod's  pertina^ 
lity  in  going  on  with  the  mission,  would  not  assist 
diem;  and  it  was  only  by  stealth  Madame  de  Boisy 
X>uld  send  them  supplies.  Francis  thought  of  learuing 
A  trade,  Hke  St.  Paul,  but  goodhumouredly  said  he  was 
ioo  dull  to  make  any  thing,  except  mend  his  clothes 
%  httle.  Of  the  isolation  in  which  they  Uved,  Francis 
^ves  us  an  idea,  by  playfully  comparing  a  Catholio 
^ady  of  Thonon,  connected  with  his  own  family,  10  Ra- 
!kabf  except  so  far  as  regarded  her  character.  Lilrt 
ftahsb,  she  sheltered  the  spies  of  tlie  oeoule  of  the 
iMK  M  \hM  midft  of  a  waole  dtw  tuA  ^ 


I.  in.] 


tT.  WmAHCiS  Torn  fALIt. 


Thwj  Bade  litde  projj^ress  in  gBining^  the  etr  of  tht 
people  by  their  sermons.  In  a  letter  written  in  the 
fpnng  or  1505,  after  he  had  been  for  seven  months 
fesidinff  in  Thonon  itself,  he  says  that  he  had  preached 

Knerally  every  festival,  and  very  often  on  week-days, 
t  only  three  or  four  Hup^enots  on  four  or  five  occa- 
sions had  attended  his  sermons ;  that  it  was  wonderftd 
to  see  the  hold  which  tem|)oraI  interest  had  on  theii 
minds,— an  evil  which  seemed  to  admit  of  no  remedy ; 
for  talk  to  them  of  hell,  and  thev  sheltered  themselves 
under  the  mercy  of  Ood ;  and  if  fiiither  pressed,  took 
themselves  off  at  once.  In  short,  they  were  cold,  timid 
and  imnincticahle.  Notwithstanding'  all  this,  whilil 
at  Aliinffes  he  walked  regularly  every  day  to  Thonon 
and  back  again,  two  long  leagues,  in  the  severest  wea- 
ther, just  as  punctually  as  if  he  had  the  most  flou- 
risliing  mission  on  his  hands  tiiat  ever  rewarded  the 
toils  of  a  Catholic  pnest.  If  we  miglit  be  allowed  to 
illustrate  religion  from  politics,  and  to  compare  indivi- 
duals the  most  dissimilar  it  is  possible  to  imagine,  wo 
are  reminded  of  O'ConnelFs  persisting  in  holding  hii 
meetings;  gravely  moving  and  seconding  resolutions, 
and  hffving  reimrts  drawn  up  for  tlie  papers,  wiien  only 
two  or  three  stragpflers  were  present.  He  knew  weU 
enough  that  he  had  resources  in  himself,  and  that  a 
party  would  be  sure  to  grow  with  his  energy  and  per^ 
severance.  So  he  surveyed  the  half-empty  hall  with 
the  utmost  cheerfiilness,  till  in  a  fnw  years  lie  was  able 
to  cover  whole  miles  of  the  country  with  multitudei 
from  every  nuarter.  ' 

Ulie  metliod  of  controversr  adopted  by  Francis  de 
Sales  rested  on  a  few  prio.  pies  which,  in  these  days, 
it  is  well  to  recal.  One  was,  to  avoid  ail  abusive  terms 
of  the  heretics  or  their  doctrine.  To  use  his  own  meta- 
phor,  he  concealed  the  lancet  in  wool,  and  inflicted  the 
salutary  wound  almost  before  the  application  of  the 
instrument  was  felt  Another  was,  that  he  persuaded 
those  with  whom  he  discussed  to  admit  this  very  rea> 
iDBftbU  pnlimiaary,-— (hat  tho  d«bat«  ihould  tiinL,  aol 


»•> 


M 


•T.  FKANOIt  Dl  lALM. 


on  thingff  they  themselves  allowed  to  be  moiffcrent,  mr 
onljr  on  points  really  essential ;  and  such  as  alone  cruld 
justify  their  separation  from  the  Catholic  Church,  sup- 
posing their  view  to  be  right.  He  further  demanded 
two  other  conditions,  which  were  emially  fair,  viz.  that 
they  should  not  accuse  Catholics  for  supposed  conse* 
Quences  from  doctrines,  when  these  consenuences  wero 
oisavowed  by  the  Catholics  themselves ;  ana  lastly,  that 
the  authorities  referred  to  for  Catholic  doctiine  should 
not  be  any  private  authors,  but  simply  the  recognised 
tfixt-books  of  the  Catholic  Church  herself,  the  Cate- 
ehism  and  other  formularies  of  the  Council  of  Trent. 
No  Protestant  would  venture  to  refuse  these  conditionsy 
if  he  cared  to  profess  himself  a  fair  disputant,  or  se- 
riously intended  a  controvei'sy  for  the  sake  of  arriving 
at  truth.  He  not  only  preached  and  conversed  inces- 
■antly,  but  wrote  at  every  spare  moment  he  could  find, 
and  caused  his  papers  to  oe  distributed  every  week 
•mong  families,  or  posted  up  in  the  streets  in  the  form 
of  placards.  These  papers  ne  nerer  lived  to  publish  in 
%  collected  form ;  though  he  intended  to  have  based  on 
Jhem  a  work  on  **  the  method  of  converting  heretioi 
by  holy  preaching."  Writing  to  his  friend  the  Arch- 
bishop ot  Vienne,  on  this  design,  he  observes:  **  I  would 
employ  in  it  several  meditations  made  during  five  vean 
in  the  Chablais,  where  I  preached  without  other  books 
than  the  Bible  and  those  of  the  great  Bellarmine.'* 
The  Mss.  were  lost  sight  of  for  a  Ion?  time  alter  hii 
death,  but  were  discovered,  in  1658,  oy  Charles  An* 
guste  de  Sales,  in  an  old  deal  box  in  the  ch&teau  of  lit 
Thuille,  and  were  edited  under  the  title  of  Contro* 
verses  de  8.  Franqois  de  Sales,  They  are  divided  into 
four  parts,  treating  respectively  of  mimrnS;  of  the  rale 
of  faith,  of  the  Sacraments,  and  of  purgaicry ;  ana 
though  they  have  only  reached  us  in  an  imperfect  form, 
furnish  a  most  interesting  study  to  the  popular  contro- 
▼ersiahst.  Hiey  are  often  characterised  oy  a  certain 
archness,  which  is  amusing,  and  which  belongs  to  tho 
MtioBti  tomporunont  of  8aToy.    On  liis  kaoinodft  cf 


'•  ii 


.  III.] 


•T.  'mAWOIt  BB  lALM.  8D 

Chflir  temperament,  and  consequent  srmpatlij  with 
the  people  among  whom  he  laboured,  Francis  appean 
to  have  relied  much.    He  twice  alludes  to  it  m  tht 

Ereface  to  the  Cantroverses.  "  Its  method  and  style/ 
e  remarks,  "  will  not  displease  you,  for  it  is  altogethei 
Savoyard ;"  and  again,  very  beautifully,  "  Although 
you  may  have  seen  several  books  better  made  and 
oetter  adorned,  let  your  attention  rest  a  little  on  this, 
which  will,  perhaps,  be  more  agreeable  to  yo^ir  humour 
than  the  others :  tor  it  is  altogether  Savoyard ;  and  one 
of  the  most  salutary  receipts  and  latest  remedies  is  th§ 
-§tum  to  on^s  native  air. 

Still,  with  all  his  gentleness,  he  knew  the  import- 
ance of  using  at  times  a  little  parade  and  display  of 
the  strength  of  the  Catholic  argument.  Thus,  at  a 
later  period  of  his  mission,  when  the  ministers  flinched 
from  meeting  him  in  controversy,  he  writes  to  Favre ' 
**  I  promised  that  in  my  next  sermon  I  would  demon 
ftrate  the  dogma  from  the  Scriptures  more  clearN 
than  the  light  of  noon-day;  ana  would  maintain  .i 
with  such  a  weight  of  reasoning,  that  not  one  of  my 
ipponents  shall  be  ignorant  that  he  has  been  blinded 
oy  the  thickest  darkness,  unless  he  has  bid  farewell  to 
humanity  and  reason.  They  rightly  perceive  that  bj 
these  rhodomontade  propositions  they  and  their  under- 
•tandings  are  challen^ea  to  the  combat,  at  the  risk,  if 
they  do  not  come,  oi  being  thought  utter  cowards  for 
drmdinff  the  onset  of  any  Catholic,  of  however  small 
account?'  But  "we  are  anticipating  triumphs,  of  which 
there  was  for  many  a  weary  monw  no  visible  indica- 
tion. Francis  kept  making  his  dally  pilgrimages  to 
Thonon,  notwithstanding  great  suffering  from  the  cold 
of  an  Alpine  winter.  Kemarkable  occurrences  are  re- 
corded, which  showed  his  fortitude  and  trust  in  Diviv 
Providence.  On  one  occasion,  when  the  missionaries  l\\\^ 
delayed  their  departure  from  the  little  town  till  near 
nightfall,  thejr  lost  their  way  in  returning  to  AUinflpei, 
and  were  denied  admittance  at  every  door  of  a  Pro- 
iMtanft  yil^pt  tluroii((h  wUdi  Umj  fumd^    tht  peoplt 


fl  '!i; 


i' 


Id  ft.  FSAvon  db  saiMi 

luiTing  ft  raperstitioivi  dread  of  them  inAued  into  iMr 
minds  bj  the  minf^ten,  who  gave  out  that  the  Cft- 
tholie  miwionariei  were  eorceren,  and  had  dealingi 
with  the  devil.  They  only  escaped  beings  in  all  pro- 
bability frozen  to  death,  by  fortunately  finding  shelter 
In  the  Tillage  bakehouse,  the  oven  of  which  was  still 
warm.  On  another  occasion,  just  as  they  were  goinr 
out  of  the  gates,  a  Huguenot,  who  had  been  struoK 
with  the  contrast  between  the  a{K>8tolic  patience  and 
gentleness  of  Francis,  and  the  conduct  of  the  minister! 
of  his  own  sect,  enti'eated  to  have  a  talk  with  him. 
Francis  could  not  refuse,  though  there  awaited  him  the 
dangerous  journey  through  the  forest  to  be  traversed 
by  night.  The  result  of  the  conversation  is  not  known; 
but  the  biographers  of  the  Saint  give  a  most  picturesque 
description  of  his  return  by  night  to  AUinges,  accom- 
panied only  by  his  cousin  and  a  servant.  Tliey  lost 
their  way  m  the  thick  darkness ;  the  howling  of  wolves 
and  bears  it  heard  all  around ;  the  travellers  at  length| 
the  moon  breaking  forth,  see  a  large  ruined  building  at 
ft  distance,  which  proves  to  be  one  of  the  many  ancient 
churches  which  tue  Calvinists  had  overthrown.  The 
missionaries  take  refuge  in  it;  and  whilst  his  com- 
panions slept,  Francis,  Kke  another  Jeremias,  poured 
rorth  his  lamentations  on  the  desecrated  temple.  What 
makes  one  more  admire  this  heroic  endurance  is,  that  he 
had  at  the  same  time  so  hard  a  fight  with  the  opposi- 
tion of  friends.  }Iis  father  used  ^1  his  entreaties  and 
authority  to  make  Francis  resign  what  he  considered  a 
hopeless  and  dangerous  undertaking,  in  which  at  best  he 
was  throwing  himself  away;  and  ror  a  moment  he  evim 
induced  the  Uisho])  of  Geneva  to  consent  to  recal  him. 
Antoine  Favre  visited  Thonon  to  see  how  he  got  on ;  and 
on  his  return  writes  a  letter,  in  which  Le  hints  to  Francis 
that,  notwithstanding  ^lie  extraordinary  admiration  en- 
tertained for  his  cliaruoter,  there  was  a  general  notion 
be  was  casting  pearls  before  swine.  About  this  time 
Francis  wrote  a  noble  letter  to  Favre,  in  which,  after 
lilliBf  him  thai  tht  Iftftdimg  mtaau,  not  traftJi^  (Mr 


i  M 


'«■.  IIL]  M*.  WtLAMCU  01  lALM.  & 

bdiTidual  resolution  to  ayoid  him,  hid  bound  them- 
•elves  by  a  mutual  engagement  never  to  hear  Catholie 
lennons,  be  adds,  **  I  believe  I  see  the  object  of  theM 
wretched  men :  they  want  in  a  manner  to  compel  us  to 
go  away,  by  aestroyiug  all  hu]>e  of  doing  any  thing : 
but  wti,  on  the  other  hand,  80  long  as  the  treaty  and 
the  wiU  of  the  ecclesiastical  and  secular  princes  shall 
permit,  have  wholly  and  most  resolutely  determined  to 
apply  to  the  work,  to  leave  not  a  stone  unturned,  to  en- 
treat, to  rebuke,  in  all  the  ])atience  and  devotion  God 
has  given  us.  But  in  my  opinion,  if  we  are  to  fight  in 
this  arena,  we  must  have,  not  preaching  only,  but  the 
Htcrifice  of  the  Moss  as  soon  as  possible,  that  the  enemy 
day  feel  that  he  is  not  so  much  abatmg  as  increasing 
•ur  courage  by  his  arts;  but  I  see  that  gi  mi  prudflnoe 
is  requirel  in  that  maitor/* 


If 


•V.  VSAWOII  Dl  lALl 


I  Si 


I  ft, 

V 


>    .ui     ■! 


I  ii 


I 


CHAPTEB  IT. 

•SABVAL  OBlirOI  IK  TBI  STATB  OV  AWWXnt,  AVC  WAft 

ooxTsasioii  or  tiu  obablais. 

Mant  months  passed  with  as  little  encouragement  at 
«Ter.  At  leng^  a  turn  took  place  in  the  state  of  affairs; 
and  at  first,  as  often  happens,  in  an  indirect  manner.  Tha 
garrison  at  Allinges  haa  oeen  remarkable  for  its  excessei^ 
especially  in  blasphemy,  drunkenness,  and  duelling. 
Francis  made  the  reformation  of  these  poor  soldiers 
his  by-work  in  the  midst  of  his  grand  undertaking  of 
Thonon.    AUinges,  as  we  have  seen,  was  his  head- 

auarters,  whither  at  first  he  returned  every  night  after 
be  labours  of  the  day  among  the  thanldess  citizens. 
Tired  out  as  he  might  be  with  preaching,  arg^g,  and 
walking  so  many  miles,  in  all  weathers,  over  mountain- 
.oads  and  through  forests,  he  still  heard  the  confessions 
df  the  soldiers;  and  ^;ained  such  an  ascendency  over  them, 
that  the  whole  garrison  became  changed,  and  irjstead  of 
being  the  terror  of  the  surrounding  districts,  was  now  its 
wonder  and  edification.  A  beautiful  story  is  told  of  his 
method  of  dealing  with  these  rugged  hearts.  One  of 
the  soldiers,  who  had  been  touch ->!  by  a  sermon  of  the 
apostolic  missionary,  came  and  n^ade  his  confession  to 
hmi  in  agonies  of  remorse.  All  the  penance  Francis 
SBve  him  was  an  ''  Our  Father"  and  a  **■  Hail  Mary.'' 
The  penitent  expressed  his  amazement  ait  what  seemed 
to  him  extreme  mdulfreoce.  Francis  in  reply  bade  him 
trust  in  the  mercy  ci  God,  which  was  greater  than  all 
his  iniquities,  and  said  that  he  would  bind  himself  with 
the  surplus  of  his  penance.  The  soldier  was  so  struck  by 
this  angelic  chanty,  that  a  few  weeks  after  he  entered 
religion  and  became  a  Carthusian.  We  know  of  no 
more  instructive  instance  of  what  all  must  often  have 
ktif  viii  tht  tttraotdinaiy  geoAroiity  of  Um  Catholif 


am.  iT.j  ST.  rmANoit  db  salbs.  m 

Ghoreh.  In  h«r  there  are  no  upbraidingi.  The  linner 
does  penance,  and  the  Precious  Hlood  washes  away  hia 
lini ;  the  simplicity  )f  the  satisfaction  leaving  tJbe  soul 
in  a  kind  of  tranquil  amazement,  and  deeply  imbued 
with  the  feeling  that  to  sin  af^n,  when  forgiveness  haa 
been  accorded  with  such  lavish,  such  infinite  love,  M'ould 
■dd  to  the  stain  of  sin  an  element  of  new  and  stupendoua 
ingratitude.  To  retiun,  however,  to  our  chief  subject. 
The  change  wrought  by  Francis  on  the  garrison  of 
Allinges,  of  course,  was  not  long  in  producing  its  effect 
on  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  Thonon;  and  though,  even 
•fter  this,  Francis  still  had  his  patience  tried  for  many 
months,  nrom  that  time  might  be  dated  a  new  epoch 
in  his  mission. 

The  next  advantage  gained  was  the  conversion  of 
an  aged  gentleman  in  the  neighbourhood,  whom  Francis 
prevented  fighting  a  duel,  and  in  whom  he  effected  a 
thorough  alteration,  not  only  of  his  mode  of  life,  but  of 
his  whole  character.  This  gentleman's  house  became 
lort  of  rendezvous  for  those  who  wished  to  hear  abou« 
the  Catholic  religion ;  and  there  Francis  held  regular 
eonferences,  which  soon  began  to  have  powerfiil  effect. 
He  had  a  particular  gift  in  winning  people  by  conversar 
tion,  in  whioh  his  persuasiveness  arose,  first,  from  that 
real  sweetness  and  kindness  of  heart,  whioh  may  be  said 
to  be  almost  irresistible ;  and  secondly,  from  an  absence 
of  any  thing  like  empressement ;  that  is,  he  would  never 
be  over  hasty  or  eager,  nlways  be  ready  patiently  to 
hear  what  people  had  to  .say,  and  quietly  to  wait  the 
proper  opportunitv  for  saying  in  his  turn  what  wai 
nttmg ;  and  finally,  he  would  never  pursue  an  advan- 
tage too  far,  but  knew  liuw  to  leave  off  just  at  the  righ^ 
mom«it.  A  man  who  had  unrivalled  charity,  humibty, 
and  confidence  in  God,  would  naturally  show  those  cha- 
facteristics  in  conversation. 

The  gentleness  of  his  method  of  conducting  contro- 
versy, and  the  unexpected  manner  in  which  he  brought 
out  atrongly  principles  which  the  Calvinists  thought 
pMidiarlj  th«r  awn  praptrtyy  onaad  gratt  inriinM; 


111 


Id 


iT.  nUHOIt  1»  lALl 


4 


f;l 


A' 


I.'-, 


I  I 


•T8B  ts  in  onr  daj  Proteitants  are  astonished  to  find 
Thomas  k  Kempis  or  Rodriguez  so  '''  evangelical/'   Plow 
eould  one,  brought  up  in  "  the  darkness  of  popery/'  naj 
more,  who  was  moving  heaven  and  earth  to  oring  that 
supposed  darkness  again  upon  the  Chablais,  sprak  so 
bMutiliillv  of  the  mediation  of  Christ?    Some  tried  to 
explain  this,  however,  by  supposing  that  Francis  had 
improved  his  views  by  being  so  much  with  the  Calvin- 
ists ;  and  others  contended  that  he  was  disguising  the 
real  tenets  of  the  Catholic  Church.     Francis  put  out  a 
pamphlet  on  the  subject  of  the  conferences,  in  which 
was  shown  that  what  he  taught  was  simply  the  doctrine 
of  the  Catechism  of  the  Council  of  Trent^  and  that  no 
one  would  argue  that  the  Council  did  not  know  what 
Catholic  theology  was.     He  conchuietl  by  challenging 
the  ministers  to  a  disputation  either  by  writing  or  in 
public  discussion.    I'hey  shrank,  however,  Irom  accept* 
mg  the  challenge,  and  did  not  venture  a  rnply  to  nia 
pamphlet    The  fear  with  wliich  he  inspired  them  was 
made  apparent  soon  after  bv  a  conspii-acy  to  assassinate 
(he  gentleman  at  whose  house  the  conferences  were 
held.     His  presence  of  mind  and  his  gi'neitMity,  how* 
ever,  were  such,  that  the  matter  only  endetl  in  the  con- 
version of  the  man  who  had  intended  to  take  his  hfe: 
the  Catholic  movement  again  took  a  fresh  impulse;  and 
^i»le  came  in  crowds  to  hear  Francis  de  Sales,  in  siiita 
of  tue  rage  and  the  prohibitions  of  their  ministers,   'lliey 
now  nlotted  to  take  the  life  of  Fiiuicis  himself;  and 
•n  July  18th,  1695,  two  assassins  actually  waylaid  him 
in  the  forest,  as  he  was  returaing  as  usual  to  Alhnges, 
with  a  very  few  companions.     Francis  behaved  like  our 
Lord,  when  St.  Peter  drew  his  sword  to  d«»fend  Him 
against  the  band  of  soldiers  headed  by  the  traitor.    Ha 
forbade  his  attendants  to  use  their  weapons ;  and  ad- 
vancing towards  the  assassins,  he  said,  ''^  My  fiiAnds, 
you  are  mistaken.    You  surely  would  not  act  thus  to- 
wards a  man  who,  far  from  having  offended  you,  would 
yield  up  his  life  for  you  wit\{  all  his  heart"    lliis  heroic 
MNB^J  •IdaBMBOV  mbdllid  Um  Mf ^^  BMA  w^  M 


ni  n 


•r.  FBAirOIf  OB  lAUM. 


■tttioiied  «*Qi8elye8  there  to  murder  him.  T^uj  ra- 
mained  8tu]ufied  for  an  instant,  and  threw  themselvet 
at  his  feet,  protesting  that  for  the  future  he  should  hava 
no  servants  more  devoted  to  him  than  they.  The  holj 
missioner  spoke  kindly  to  them,  and  baoe  them  taka 
care  how  they  fell  in  the  way  of  the  Baron  d'Hermanoe^ 
who  would  not  be  so  indulgent  to  them  as  he  was. 
Soon  after  this  Francis  decided  on  removing^  to  Thonon; 
the  number  of  converts  increasing*  so  fast  required  him 
to  be  continually  on  the  spot,  and  he  could  no  longer 
afford  the  time  for  his  daily  journeys.  To  reside  in  tha 
place  was,  however,  still  a  great  risk ;  and  the  Baron 
d'lleimance  urged  him  still  to  remain  in  the  castle,  ai 
n.en  who  had  attempted  to  miu'der  him  by  daylight  on 
the  road  would  be  likely  to  find  means  of  carrying  theii 
evil  purpose  iLio  effect  if  he  lived  among  them  by  night 
as  well  as  day.  Francis,  however,  jtersisted,  and  wai 
received  at  Thonon  by  his  C  holic  flock  with  great 
v>y.  One  of  his  biogitinhers  thus  descrfbes  the  moda 
o^life  led  by  Francis  ana  his  faithful  |)eople : 

'*  Nothing  (he  remarks)  could  be  so  like  the  early 
Church  as  the  little  church  of  Thonon ;  the  same  charity 
for  the  brethren,  the  same  zeal  for  the  faith,  an  exactly 
similar  purity  of  murals :  for  Francis  made  little  account 
of  a  man's  relintpushing  his  errors,  if  he  did  not  change 
his  life, — if  grace  did  not  su])eral)ound  where  sin  had 
abounded;  and  the  )>enediction  which  God  had  attached 
to  his  ministry  went  at  once  to  enlighten  the  mind  and 
to  change  the  heait.  But  notliing  so  )N)weriully  struck 
such  heretics  as  were  not  entirely  hardened,  as  to  sea 
the  way  in  which  the  poor  and  the  sick  were  succoured. 
Francis  used  to  employ  all  he  had  to  live  upon  in 
this;  so  that  afler  having  fed  others,  he  was  bimseli 
often  reduced  to  suffer  hunger:  he  kept  continually 
loliciting  his  relations  and  fhends  to  help  the  pom 
fiiithfiil  of  tlie  ChaMais.  He  often  received  sums  con* 
•iderable  in  themselves,  but  which  were  trifling  when 
measured  by  his  charity.  The  CathoUcs  seconded  hi» 
ml  to  fuh  an  «sttitt  tf  to  oontaU  thomitLyat  mtnij 


fT.  FBANOIS  DB  lALM. 


widi  what  was  neoessaiy;  and  a  holy  economy  was 
to  prevail  among  them,  which  had  no  other  ohiect  it 
▼iew  but  the  relief  of  the  destitute."  Qilarsollier's  lAf 
of  St,  Frauds  de  Sales,  book  ii.)  One  is  indeed  re 
minded  here  of  Catholic  ways  in  times  yery  widely 
apart.  The  heathen  said:  '*  See  how  these  Ghristianff 
loTe  one  another!"  In  a  beautifid  chapter  of  the  Trea 
Use  on  the  Love  of  God,  Francis  relates  how  St.  Paco- 
loiasy  when  yet  a  Pagan,  received  his  first  impulses  of 
admiration  for  the  faith  by  seeing  the  charity  of  the 
Christians  in  furnishing  provisions  for  the  distressed 
soldiers  of  Maxentius.  In  our  own  times,  an  exact  ob 
server  tells  ns  that  the  half-pagan  population  of  Lon 
don  are  led  to  entertain  a  special  respect  for  the  Catholit 
religion  from  observing  that  poor  CathoHcs  in  adversity 
are  so  often  set  on  their  legs  again  by  the  charity  of 
their  brethren.  (Vide  London  Labour  and  the  London 
Poor.)  The  malignity  of  conscious  and  wilftd  heresy 
is,  however,  extraordinary.  The  jealousy  and  hatred  of 
the  ministers  increased  m  proportion  to  the  way  which 
Francis  was  making  among  me  people,  and  they  once  more 
idotted  against  his  hfe.  Late  one  night  his  house  was 
Mset  by  a  party  of  armed  men ;  the  holy  missioner,  ac- 
cording to  his  custom,  was  at  prayer,  ana  heard  the  clash 
of  arms  and  the  noise  of  voices  talking  in  an  under-tone  - 
he  just  had  time  to  conceal  himseU^  when  they  forced 
open  the  door,  and  ransacked  the  house  to  lull  him 
His  hiding-place,  however,  seems  to  have  been  as  weL 
chosen  as  some  of  those  "  priests'  holes"  they  show  is 
<dd  Bnglish  Catholic  houses ;  the  wretches  failed  to  dis* 
eoTer  him,  and  were  obliged  to  retire,  assistance  having 
been  unwillingly  sent  by  the  magistrates.  Enraged  at 
being  thus  disappointed^  of  their  prey,  they  went  about 
repeating  their  old  story  that  Francis  was  a  sorcerer,  for 
he  could  not  have  escaped  if  be  had  not  had  the  gift  of 
making  himself  invisible.  When  Francis  heard  of  this 
charge,  he  smiled,  and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  said, 
''  H««  are  all  the  charms  I  own;  andby  this  sign  1  nope 
t»  gwiiw  htUp  hr  from  being  on  tcnns  with  n," 


1.  .| 


•a.  it.l 


•T.  VIUNOIt  DB  BALMM, 


Now  that  he  resided  in  Thonon,  and  as  jet  it 
not  prudent  to  say  Mass  in  the  town,  he  went  eveij 
morning  to  offer  the  holy  Sacrifice  at  Marin,  a  Tillago 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river  Drance.  In  June  1596, 
the  hridge  having  been  broken  by  the  floods,  he  was 
obliged  to  cross  upon  a  plank,  stretching  over  a  terrible 
chasm,  and  often  as  slippery  as  glass  with  its  coating  of 
ice.  Yet  rather  than  be  dfeprived  of  saying  Mass,  he 
would  creep  on  his  hands  and  knees,  at  the  risk  of  his 
life,  across  the  frightful  pass.  OccasionaUr  he  also 
said  Mass  in  the  chapel  of  the  monks  of  St.  liemard  at 
Montjou,  or  in  that  of  the.  castle  of  Allinges.  When  he 
visited  the  latter,  he  used  to  preach  and^ve  communion 
at  the  neighbouring  parish-church.  On  one  occasion 
the  congre^tion  only  amounted  to  seven  pei'sons,  and 
b\:  was  advised  to  save  himself  the  trouble  of  preaching. 
^id  replied,  however,  that  he  would  preach  if  there  were 
only  one  person  present ;  he  owed  instruction  to  a  Uttle 
flock  as  well  as  to  a  great  one.  The  sermon,  which  was 
on  the  invocation  of  saints,  saved  the  faith  of  a  geutlemar 
who  heaixi  it,  and  who  was  on  the  very  verge  of  apostasy. 
He  now  ventured  to  preach,  mounted  on  a  chair,  in  tne 
market-place  of  Thonon;  when  the  people  would  break 
off  business  and  listen  to  him,  hushed  in  silence.  He 
was  indefatigable  in  visiting  the  sick ;  and  as  he  was  in 
a  heretic  town,  he  made  his  flock  understand  by  hik 
manner  when  he  was  carrying  the  Blessed  Sacrament 
about  him,  and  they  followed  liim  reverently  at  a  dis- 
tance. 

The  signs  of  harvest  began  now  to  thicken.  In  April 
1696,  Francis  writes  with  great  satisfaction  to  Favre, 
that  the  Baron  d' Avully,  one  of  the  most  important  of 
the  gentry  of  the  place,  together  with  the  "  8)Tidic8,"  or 
magisti-ates  of  the  city,  had  very  recently  attended  a  ser- 
mon of  his  on  the  Real  Presence ;  and  that  others,  who 
did  not  dare  to  come  openly,  had  endeavoured  to  hear 
what  they  could  in  a  little  back  lanu,  where  he  was 
afraid  his  voice  could  not  reach,  aiid  that  he  had  jeen 
toid  dit  CalTinistB  intended  to  p^ibliah  **  a  oonfesmoii  if 


li'li 


■•t 


M  m 

m 


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1 


II. ti 


•-I 


, ! 


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I ;  I 

lii 


'ft! 


l^> 


I 

I'm 


li^      ' 


1  {'! 


I 


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m 


their  fiu^"  to  serve  as  the  bitsis  of  disoQiiion  with 
him.  ''  Toe  business  is  now  safe/'  he  triumphantly  re* 
irks ;  **  for  they  have  begun  to  parley,  and,  as  the  pro- 
verb has  it,  will  next  come  to  suiTender."  Hm  est  in 
tuto:jam  enim  ad  cdlloquia  descenduntf  moXf  ut  ear  pro- 
verhio,  ad  deditwttem  venturi.  A  veij  interesting  reply 
<rom  me  Senator  Favre  to  this  letter  is  extant,  in  wmco 
he  says  there  had  been  a  report  of  Francis's  returning 
to  Annecy,  whicii  he  had  much  hesitated  to  beUeve, 
and  had  wished  particularly  to  hear  from  him,  in  order  to 
learn  whether  he  had  merely  come  to  Annecy,  or  bad 
returned  thither.  Like  Regulus  of  old,  he  might  in- 
deed have  visited  his  home;  out  with  the  full  intention 
of  keeping  his  word,  and  going  back  to  Carthage.  He 
congratulates  him  warmly  on  the  victories  he  was  gain- 
ing, and  no  longer  among  the  dii  minorum  gentium, 
but  among  those  melioris  notasBy  some  of  whom  he  heart 
have  been  so  overcome  by  the  mere  report  of  Francis't 
ailments,  that  they  kept  out  of  his  way,  and  avoideo 
meeting  or  seeing  him, — '*  Good  God  !  how  would  it 
have  been  had  they  heard  you  si)eaking  and  disp;:ting !" 
—and  others  had  resolvea  to  conduct  the  controversy 
m  writini^,  imagining,  for  which  the  senator  thought 
them  rash,  that  tiieir  paper,  full  of  lies  and  impudence 
as  it  might  be,  would  not  bli  sh.  Viret,  the  Calvinist 
minister  of  Thonon,  and  his  brethren,  began  to  find 
themselves  called  upon  to  take  some  public  steps  to 
counteract  Francis.  They  challenged  him  to  a  publio 
disputation,  which  he  gladly  accepted ;  but  when  the 
day  came,  only  Viret  attenaed,  and  made  a  shuffling 
excuse,  on  behalf  of  himself  and  the  rest,  for  withdraw- 
ing their  chailen^,  on  pretence  it  might  offend  the 
Buke  of  Savoy.  Francis  obtained  for  them  a  written 
authorisation  fi>om  the  Daron  d'llermance  to  hold  Vie 
disfiutation;  but  th^y  alleged  fuither  idle  excuses,  and 
qTiitted  the  town  without  daring  to  face  their  formidania 
opponent.  Two  great  and  leading  conversions  followed 
■oon  after ;  one  of  them,  that  of  an  advocate  of  distino" 
tay  uuDid  Ponoati  tha  oUmt,  tbt  •hof^iiainirf  hum 


.  IT.J 


•T.  rSAllOIt  SB  tJLLWM.  W 

d'AfuIlj,  wlio  Iwcame  moet  ^iseful  to  Franeie  by  bit  aid 
•nd  suf^^tions  in  carrying  on  the  work  of  catholioisinff 
the  province.  Francis  considered  this  conversion  of  sucS 
great  importance,  that  he  made  a  special  commemo- 
ration of  it  once  a  year,  on  the  4th  October,  as  long  ai 
be  hved.  In  the  present  day,  when  Protestants  are  so 
fond  of  adopting  the  system  of  passing  over  in  silence 
most  convincing  treatises  on  the  Catholic  side,  of  **  ig- 
noring*' them,  as  the  ])hra8e  is,  it  is  interesting  to  oo* 
■erve  that  the  Swiss  Calvinists  in  Francis  de  Sales' 
time  used  precisely  the  same  stratagem  towards  him ; 
imitating  tlie  silly  bird  ir  the  fable,  who,  so  long  as  it 
bides  its  head  li'om  the  i  wler,  thinks  that  its  body  is 
lecure.  A  controversial  ^uper,  written  by  Francis  at 
D'Avully's  request  before  his  convei'sion.  was  sent  to 
the  ministers  of  Berne  and  Geneva,  ana  met  with  no 
■ort  of  notice.  Such  a  mode  of  procpeding  of  course 
only  tended  the  more  to  o])en  D'AvuIIy's  eyes  to  the 
weakness  of  the  Calvinistic  bei'esy,  and  to  the  strength 
of  the  Catholic  argument,  from  which  tliey  could  only 
take  refiige  in  stupid  inaction.  One  instance,  indeed, 
occr:n*ed,  which  showed  that  had  they  entei-ed  into  either 
controversy  or  discussion,  the  result  would  have  been 
the  same.  D'Avuily  pi-suaded  Francis  to  call  on  La 
Faye,  a  celebrated  minister  at  Geneva,  with  whom  he 
baa  a  long  conference  at  his  own  house.  As  in  many 
such  debates,  the  minister  kent  continually  shifting 
bis  ground  when  pressed  on  one  point,  immediately 
flying  to  some  other  objection,  and  ending  in  a  torrcn:. 
M  the  most  outrageous  invectives,  which  Fi-uncis  bore 
with  his  usual  serenity. 

Conversions  now  began  to  be  numerous,  and  the 
snccess  of  Francis's  mission  l)ecanie  the  object  of  gene- 
ral interest  and  applause.  Poi)e  Clement  VIII.  him* 
self  wrote  to  ex])ress  his  approbation  of  the  zeal  and 
diligence  which  Francis  hud  shown ;  and  the  Duke  of 
Savoy  oi-dered  him  to  crime  to  Turin  to  advise  with 
him  on  the  means  of  completing  tJie  great  work  which 
WW  10  bappilj  hmiiUL    It  waa  to  L«  azpeotfld  aoat 


i> 


r.'t 


;;t  i 


m 


M 


0T.  FBAWOn  DB  lALIS. 

wool J  ooeur  in  the  midst  of  such  a  eareer  of  fiie- 
'  d  there  happened  one  of  a  kind  particularly 
tryinf  j  ^  character  like  that  of  Francis.  Just  when 
lie  hiuu  received  his  order  from  the  Duke,  a  hrief,  dated 
October  1, 1596,  arrived  from  Pope  Clement  VIII.,  in 
which  his  HoUness  intimated  to  Francis  de  Sales,  that 
he  had  commissioned  a  Capuchin  friar.  Father  Esprit 
de  Baume,  to  acquaint  him  with  a  great  design  which 
he  desired  him  to  undertake.  This  was  no  other  than 
to  attempt  the  conversion  of  the  celebrated  hei-esiarcb 
Beza,  wh^  resided  at  Geneva,  as  the  successor  of  Calviii, 
and  chief  of  his  sect.  Beza  was  now  verv  old;  and  the 
Holy  Father  probably  thouopht  that  Fiancis's  unrivalled 
powers  of  persuasion,  combined  with  that  tenderness 
towards  early  recollections  which  Beza  mig'ht  be  ex- 
pected to  have  (for  he  had  been  a  Catholic  till  long 
past  his  early  youth),  would  be  not  unlikely  to  work  a 
change.  At  a  distance,  the  undertaking*  seemed  invit- 
ing' ;  but  had  his  Holiness  been  on  the  spot,  he  woula 
have  perceived  that  the  time  was  not  yet  arrived  fo* 
Francis  to  turn  his  attention  to  any  thing  but  carrying* 
on  the  vast  work  he  had  in  hana.  It  was  the  most 
critical  moment  in  the  conversion  of  the  province;  it 
was  very  doubtfrd  whether  the  Duke  could  be  induced 
Vrmally  to  establish  the  Catholic  reliction  in  the  pro- 
lince;  and  if  this  op{)ortunity  were  lost,  the  chance 
might  never  occur  affain.  Beza,  though  a  neat  man, 
was  but  an  individual ;  and  the  salvation  of  thousands 
depended  on  the  decision  of  the  Duke.  Francis  saw 
very  distinctly  that,  although  in  appearance  obedi- 
tnce  prompted  him  to  go  to  Geneva,  liis  real  duty, 
which  ^he  Holy  Father  himself  would  have  enjoined 
had  he  been  present  and  known  the  facts,  was  t?  pro 
eeed  with  the  mission  before  him.  He  was  in  the  pa«d- 
tionof  an  officer  at  a  distance  frt)m  his  general,  reoeiy- 
fflg  orders  which  the  general  himself  would  reverse  if 
he  were  at  hand ;  he  therefore  boldly  took  the  respon- 
•ibility  of  acting  a<!cording  to  the  existing  einmm- 
wluehf  afUr  a  goal  dail  *£  harasiiny  «ppQ» 


'.  1:^ 


IB.  IT.I 


•T.  VMIlf  OM  OB  f  Atn. 


47 


tioDy  STOD  Fathei  Espnt,  with  wnom  the  eonyertioii  of 
Beza  was  a  pet  scheme,  at  last  admitted  was  the  proper 
end  only  course  to  be  pursued. 

Francis  arrived  at  IHuin  in  December  1696,  after 
A  perilous  winter  journey  across  the  Alps.    He  was 
most  flatteringly  received  by  the  Duke  and  all  the 
CSourt  of  Piedmont,  and  was  invited  to  state  his  views 
before  the  Gouncfl.    He  made  a  long  speech,  of  the 
most  statesmanlike  kind,  and  at  the  same  time  full  ot 
the  ecclesiastical  spirit,  which  lost  none  of  its  e£Pees 
from  his  youthful  appearance.     He  argued  that  ^iie 
time  had  at  length  arrived  for  the  state  to  put  forth  its 
energies  in  completing  the  work  of  conversion.    The 
Duke  was  unwilling  to  harird  the  use  of  forcible  mea- 
Bores  for  fear  of  Geneva  a.      Henry  IV.,  who  might 
take  advantage  of  any  discontent  in  the  dominions  of 
Savoy.    Francis  did  not  recommend  force;   but  he 
pointed  out  the  dangerous  connection  which  always  ex- 
isted between  Calvinism  and  rebellion,  and  showed  that 
the  bulk  of  the  population  did  not  hold  to  Calvinism  on 
conviction,  but  merely  because  Catholicity  had  been  re- 

S resented  to  them  in  false  colours.  The  ministers  evi- 
ently  maintained  tlieir  gi'ound  on  principles  which  had 
no  claim  to  respect;  for  they  reiiisfd  to  argue  the  sub- 
ject, and  had  sought  on  two  or  three  occasions  to  get 
rid  of  the  difficulty  by  attempting  to  have  Francis  as- 
sassinated. It  seemed  most  unreasonable  to  allow  the 
presence  of  such  men  to  stand  in  the  way  of  the  conver- 
sion of  a  whole  people.  He  therefore  recommended 
that  all  the  Protestant  ministers  should  be  sent  out  of 
the  country.  He  further  advised  that  state-patronage 
should  be  transferred  from  the  Protestants  to  the  (Sir 
tholics,  so  that  no  public  offices  should  be  held  except 
by  Catholics.  These  were  the  two  strongest  points  u* 
a  memorial  which  he  presented  to  the  government.  The 
others  were,  the  suppression  of  Protestant  books ;  the 
establishment  of  a  prmtin^-press  at  Annecy  for  the  cir- 
eolation  of  Catholic  pubhcations ;  the  re-establishment 
if  tbi  eld  pariihM  tarauirhiRit  im  dnohj;  the  netitih 


!     I 


^. '  ; 


;h 


•f.  vwiireti  DB  lAtn. 

tfoD  of  Qsnrped  Gfaurch  property ;  the  restontioB  of  tht 
ehuich  of  St.  Kipi)olytus  in  the  townof  Thonon  for  pub 
lie  CathoUj  worsuip ;  the  employment  of  eight  actiro 
Bissionaries  to  travel  about  tue  country  and  preach  in 
•11  directions,  to  be  maintained  out  of  funds  hitherto 
paid  to  Protestant  ministers ;  and  finally,  the  establish- 
ment of  a  college  of  Jesuits  at  Thonon, — that  socie^ 
being'  practised  in  controversy,  and  best  qualified  to 
carry  on  so  difficult  a  work.  His  gi-eat  object  was  to 
ose  the  strength  of  the  state  to  secure  a  clear  field  for 
the  action  of  Catholicity ;  and  at  all  events  to  make  the 
people  hear  and  see  it.  If  only  they  could  be  brought 
to  tliis,  he  could  leave  the  result  in  the  hands  of  God. 
Thus,  in  an  earlier  memorial,  ho  had  recommended  that 
**  churches  should  be  refitted  in  suitable  localities,  with 
altars  very  handsomely  adoraed ;  and  that  the  officee 
should  be  celebmted  decently  tiierein,  and  with  all  the 
lolemnities  required  for  the  mnjesty  of  the  Divine  ser- 
vice, even  with  organs,  or  other  similar  thinQ:8,  to  fiami- 
Uarise  the  inhabitants  with  the  exercise  of  the  CathoUo 
reliirion.''  It  may  be  interesting  here  to  mention,  that 
Francis,  as  we  read  in  a  letter  of  his  to  Madame  de 
Chantal,  "  knew  nothing  whatever  of  music,"  though 
he  "  loved  it  extremely  when  it  is  apphed  to  the  praisei 
of  our  Lord." 

His  plan  for  the  restoration  of  Catholicity,  from  the 
political  position  of  Savoy,  was  thought  danncr,  esi)eci- 
ally  in  the  fii-st  two  points, —  the  expulsion  of  the  Cal- 
▼inist  ministers,  and  the  transference  of  8tat4»-putronage 
to  the  Catholics.  I'hese  measures  the  Duke  reserved 
to  a  later  |)eriod ;  but  the  otiiei's,  after  some  discussion, 
were  granted.  If  the  Catholic  religion  was  to  be  esta- 
blished at  all,  less  than  what  Francis  asked  would  not 
have  sufficed.  Tlie  ))rinciple  of  the  state  being  of  no 
religion,  and  distributing  a  certain  amount  of  its  assist- 
ance to  all  parties  alike,  was  in  those  days  not  so  much 
ts  thought  of;  and  rulers  believed  themselves  intrusted 
with  power  and  patronage,  not  only  for  the  temporal 
veU-being  of  their  fubje&^  but  «lio  for  the  diveot  •» 


f*.  IT.]  fT.  nuHon  Di  SALii.  li 

▼ice  of  Almiffhty  God.  If  people  admit  tbe  fairaest  of 
thifi  view  ofpublio  duty,  but  Htill  complain  of  Frauoif 
do  Sales'  propositions  being  severe,  they  have  to  show 
in  what  oUier  manner  any  relifpon  could  liave  been  es- 
tablished. It  was  precisely  a  case  in  which  the  state 
might  with  the  most  perfect  prudence  interfere ;  for  the 
people  were  so  far  Catholic  as  to  require  only  a  slight 
uonionstmtion  of  the  will  of  the  state  to  decide  their 
wavering  convictions,  and  many  of  them  hesitated  only 
bectuse  they  tliought  that  will  was  not  sufficiently 
whown.  Atlairs  bt>in<^  in  such  a  position,  it  would  have 
been  into]era)>le  if  a  handhd  of  fanatics  had  been  al- 
lowed to  check  the  Catholic  tendencies  of  the  bulk  of 
the  Dopulation,  ur  to  restrain  them  in  the  fi'ee  exercise 
of  ttiut  religion  which  had  been  forcibly  dispossessed 
of  its  ancient  rights  httle  more  than  half  a  century 
before. 

Fmncis  retiuned  to  llionon,  and  after  ordering 
prayei's  for  the  good  success  of  the  arduous  undertak- 
mgy  took  measures  for  the  opening  of  the  church  of 
St.  Hi))i)olytus  at  the  approaching  Christmas  of  1590. 
llie  annoinicement  was  the  signal  for  an  alarming  sedi- 
tion, which  was  favoured  by  the  magistrates  themselves. 
The  Calvinists  closed  the  gates,  to  prevent  assistance 
coming  to  the  Catholics  fi'om  the  country,  surrounded 
tlie  church  of  St.  Hippolytus,  and  thraatened  to  bum 
Fmncis  de  Sales  alive  m  the  midst  of  the  town.  The 
Carbolics,  on  their  part,  put  themselves  in  a  state  of 
defence,  occupied  various  strong  points,  and  placed  a 
piiard  at  the  house  of  their  beloved  apostle.  The  crowd 
having  dispersed  at  nightfall,  Francis  at  once  sent  work* 
men  into  the  church.  Disturbances  agam  broke  out  b 
the  morning ;  and  the  two  parties  were  on  the  point  ol 
coming  to  blows,  when  Francis,  with  that  serene  couragt 
for  which  he  was  so  remnrkabb  came  between,  and 
aildressed  the  Calvinists  in  a  firm  but  conciliators 
fipeeoh;  assuring  them  that  it  was  no  part  of  the  Didce  • 
plan  to  deprive  them  of  the  liberty  of  conscience  they 
injojed,  but  thtl  hi  vai  ditennimd  th«  Oatholir 


.ill; 


¥..  ) 


■  i: 


W-     |l  'v 

*•  i  ■ 

it!       ^' 


! 

* 

ifflt  f 

I'' 
V 


•i 
I 


I- i 


/ 

■" 

1' 

i ' 

i-^ 

■■  '■ 

?  ■■ 

1' 

i 

i 

1 

' ".' 

ji. 

IV  IT.  nUKcit  Dl  lALM. 

•honld  at  leait  have  one  ohuroh  in  whieh  to  ttiatHm 
their  leligim,  and  tbut  he  was  merely  putting  the  C»> 
iholios  in  possession  ot  i»hat  had  been  their  own  foi 
many  centuries.  The  CHlvinists  hesitated  ji  dnd  at  leogfth 
%gree4  to  a  compromise,  by  which  Francis  was  allowed 
to  p-Qcee(L  pendms^  an  ap})eal  from  both  parties  to  the 
Dv^e.  Havingp  tnus  made  good  his  footing  in  the 
church)  Francis  worked  with  inconceivable  dihgence  to 
get  it  ready,  so  as  to  celebrate  Christmas  with  all  the 
splendour  possible  under  the  circumstances.  He  effected 
tnis  great  triumph ;  all  the  Catholics  from  the  neigh- 
bouring country  poured  in  to  witness  the  sacred  mva- 
leries,  which  had  for  neaily  two  generations  been  oa- 
nished  from  the  desecrated  temples;  eight  hundred 
people  received  holy  communion  from  his  hands ;  and 
m  tne  course  of  the  octave,  the  inhabitants  of  three  tU- 
lages  came  en  mcuae  to  abjure  their  heresy  in  his  hands. 
The  little  spark  he  had  been  fanning  so  long  was  now 
indeed  kindling  into  a  flame ;  the  harvest  of  conversions 
was  now  so  abundant  he  could  hardly  gather  it  in ;  and 
the  amoimt  of  labour  in  ''  sick-calls"  became  propor- 
tionately ffreat,  as  Thonon  and  the  rest  of  the  provmoe 
were  ^raaually  becoming  Catholic,  and  no  priests  to 
attend  to  them  but  Francis,  his  brother,  and  a  very  few 
assistants.  He  preached,  he  taught,  he  conversed,  he 
traversed  the  district  incessantly,  dischargmff  even  the 
duties  of  legal  adviser  and  physician  as  weD  as  priest 
to  his  poor  people,  for  whicn  nis  education  at  Fadut 
had  made  mm  highly  con^petent.  The  day  was  nut 
sufficient  for  his  toils:  for  he  preferred  to  carry  the 
Blessed  Sacrament  to  the  sick  by  night,  lest  the  heretios 
ihould  insult  It  in  the  day-time,  and  so  compel  him  to 
have  recourse  to  secular  assistance,  which  he  was  always 
K>  anxious  to  use  as  Httio  as  possible.  He  lay  down 
for  but  a  short  time,  most  frequently  in  his  clothes,  and 
^mt  the  rest  of  the  night  in  prayer,  or  in  preparing 
tus  instructions  for  the  next  day.  Work  like  this  told 
apoo  his  constitut'on  in  the  end.  In  one  of  his  letters 
m  nmukBf  that  joung  people  an  apt  to  think  tlufy 


CH.  IT.]  ST.  VllNOIl  SB  SALIft.  §. 

mn  bear  long^  watches,  but  that  they  suffer  fo?  them  tf 
a  later  period ;  aud  he  will  not  allow  his  penitenu  t» 
lit  up  to  meditate.  Wlien,  however,  he  knew  the  ser* 
Tioe  of  God  retjuired  it,  he  waa  not  the  man  to  span 
himself.  "  It  !s  not  necessary,"  he  said,  **  for  me  t 
live ;  but  it  is  necessary  for  the  Church  to  be  served.*' 
The  following  year,  1697,  another  fiehi  was  opened 
for  his  zeal  and  prudence,  similar  to  that  which  he  had 
worked  so  well  m  the  earl^  days  of  his  mission  in  the 
castle  of  A I  lingoes.  A  re^ment  commande<l  by  the 
Count  de  Maitineugiie  was  sent  by  the  Duke  of  Sft* 
voy  to  occupy  TLunun,  and  to  act  under  the  advice  ol 
Francis.    The  wise  and  holy  missioner  only  used  thie 

?reat  nower  to  secure  g'ooa  order  among  the  troope. 
hey  nocked  to  hear  his  sermons,  which  he  now,  instead 
of  bein{^  controversial,  made  to  tura  on  the  great  truthi 
of  the  Chi'istinn  religion,  and  on  moral  duties,  which 
would  come  home  to  new  and  old  Catholics  alike. 
Most  of  them,  officers  as  well  as  men,  made  general 
confessions ;  and  they  were  so  delighted  with  the  pre> 
cepts  which  Francis  gave  them,  especially  relating  t| 
temptations  that  they  should  guai'd  against  hereuter. 
tliat,  at  their  entreaty,  he  nut  them  into  writing,  ana 
added  a  set  of  rules  tor  a  (Jhristian  life  adapted  to  ti^ 
military  state.  It  would  be  most  interestmg  if  thif 
were  still  to  be  found  among*  his  writings. 

Matters  were  now  so  far  settled  at  Thonon,  that 
Francis  thought  himself  able  to  undertake  the  tasi 
assigned  to  lum  by  the  Holy  Father,  luid  endeavour  ti 
convert  the  great  heresiarch  of  Geneva.  It  waf>  adiffi* 
cult  business  even  to  get  access  to  him ;  for  Be«a  wa» 
then  an  old  man,  and  his  house  'k  as  daily  so  throngeir' 
by  his  adherents,  that  it  was  hardly  possible  to  hav» 
an  interview  with  him  without  attractmg  observation 
Francis,  however,  resolved  to  make  the  attempt,  an« 
prejiared  for  it,  as  he  did  for  all  arduous  offices,  by 
much  fasSng  and  prayer,  and  by  writing  to  his  Bishop 
and  chapter,  and  to  all  virtuous  persons  he  knew  who 
wer«  fit  to  bt  intanftod  with  the  eeoreti  to  aik  theii 


IB  tr.  vmAiroit  di  ialh. 

pmjen  for  the  htppy  terminatioii  of  the  entarprii^ 
After  several  ineffectual  attempts,  he  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining an  interview  with  Beza  on  Easter  Tuesdaji 
1597.  The  old  man  received  him  with  much  courtesy ; 
and  was  ^atly  agitated  during  a  part  of  the  confer^ 
ence,  particularly  when  Francis  pressed  upon  him  tiie 
miestion  whether  it  was  possible  to  be  saved  in  the  Ca- 
tnolic  Church;  which  Beza,  after  a  severe  stnigpgle  with 
himself,  was  obliged  to  admit,  notwithstanding  the  ob- 
vious consequence  that  the  Protestant  schism  was  inde- 
fensible. 1  hey  had  two  other  intemews,  in  the  last  ol 
which  Beza  showed  himself  much  softened,  having  had  a 
remarkable  dream,  in  which  it  appeared  to  him  ne  was 
brought  to  the  judgment-seat  or  God,  and  that  he  ob- 
tained a  respite  for  penance  by  the  intercession  of  the 
Blessed  Vu-gin.  He  also  was  deeply  grateful  for  the 
prayers  which  the  venerable  Bishop  of  Geneva  had  for 
years  offered  up  on  his  behalf.  But  the  iron  fetters  in 
which  his  position  held  him  were  too  strong  to  be 
broken  by  tliese  last  impressions  of  grace.  The  here- 
siarch,  whom  a  saint  had  laboured  to  convert,  diea  as 
Ve  had  lived,  an  alien  to  the  true  fold. 

During  this  year,  an  act  of  extreme  cruelty  and 
injustice  on  the  part  of  the  Protestante  contributed  to 
streng^lien  the  cause  of  Francis.  A  poor  minister  of 
*Jie  name  of  Galletin,  ashamed  of  the  shuffling  of  his 
orethren  when  challenged  by  Francis  to  meet  him  at 
Geneva,  came  to  Thonon  himself,  and  held  many  con- 
ferences with  the  Saint,  which  ended  in  his  conviction 
of  the  truths  of  Catholicity,  though  not  in  his  couvei- 
non.  He  had  admitted,  nowever,  too  much  to  be  for- 
given by  his  co-religionists,  who,  on  his  return  to  Berne, 
as  it  is  generally  stated  by  the  historians,  procured  his 
condemnation  to  death. 

Francis  de  Sales  now  had  three  energetic  assistant! 
sent  him  by  his  bishop ;  two  of  them  Capuchins,  Father 
Chenibin  of  Maimenne,  and  Father  Esprit  de  Baume, 
ppjviously  mentioned,  and  a  Jesuit  from  Chamb^rT| 
ahmed  Saunier.  With  theie  eoclejiiitici  andhii  ooom 


!      U 


9tL  IT.]  ST.  FBANCIf  !»■  SALBt.  6ft 

Louif  de  Sales,  he  held  a  council,  to  deliberate  on  hit 
plan  of  action,  at  Anneaiasio,  a  place  on  the  Lake  of 
Ueneva,  about  eighteen  iiiilon  from  Thonon,  which  had 
always  remamed  faithful  to  Catholicity.  Here,  in  Sep- 
tember of  the  same  year,  1597,  he  celebrated  a  solemn 
Quarant'  Ore,  to  which  no  fewer  than  30,000  peo)  > ; 
resorted  fi'om  all  the  vicicity.  Francis  himself,  m  sur- 
plice and  stole,  accompanied  a  grand  procession,  in 
which  they  caiiied  the  cnicihx  fro  li  Thonon  to  Aime- 
masse,  sin^ng  litanies  and  hymns  as  they  marched, 
and  being  joined  at  each  yillage  by  fresh  bands  of  con- 
verts. On  this  occasion  he  restored  ua  ancie:^t  cross  on 
the  high-road  from  Annemasse  to  Geneva,  which  7  ^d 
been  overthrown  by  the  heretics,  and  attached  t<»  i^  • 
•arolli  with  the  following  verses  written  by  Hinuelii'* 

**  Ce  n'est  la  pierre  ni  le  bois 

Sue  le  Catnuiiciae  adore  i 
ait  le  Roi  aui,  mort  en  oroix, 
De  ton  sang  la  croix  honor*." 

It  may  be  interesting  to  mention,  that  among  ikm 
means  he  used  to  attract  the  feelings  of  a  simple  azid 
onlettered  population,  was  that  of  the  old  mystery- 
plays.  He  made  his  cousin  the  Canon  de  Sales  and 
nis  brother  Louis  compose  a  dramatic  ])iece  of  this  kind 
on  the  sacrifice  of  Aoraham ;  and  when  it  was  acted, 
ae  himself  took  the  part  of  iha  B*>emal  Father.  This, 
of  course,  would  strike  Protestu  .'bS  as  irreverent;  but  it 
is  an  accusation  they  ought  to  be  slow  to  bring  against 
Francis  de  Sales.  He  deubtless  felt  in  this,  as  in 
every  thing  he  uttered,  that  he  was  speaking  for  God's 
greater  glory,  and  to  do  Him  service. 

In  the  oegimiing  of  1598  the  Jesuits  were  esta- 
blished at  Thonon,  and  all  went  on  with  the  utmost 
activity.  During  a  short  internal,  when  Francis  was 
absent  at  the  casUe  of  Sfkles  iL  eonsequonce  of  an  attack 
of  fever,  the  ministers  ventured  on  holding  a  confer- 
ence with  the  Catholic  clergy  he  left  at  Thonon;  but 
mi  his  ratom,  disgraotfullj  shrank  from  i*ft"t*«*iiiT*g  tha 


1 1 


M 


•T.  nUMCIt  DB  fALIi. 


4 1 

si  I! 


''i 


I1 

if 't 

i   ■      .     ■ 

( 

.  i 
hi 

disputations.  The  treaty  of  Veryins,  ratified  on  Mai 
2d  of  this  year,  by  which  the  possession  of  the  Chablav 
and  the  bailiwick  of  Tcmier  were  ceded  by  France  tc 
Savoy,  constitutes  un  c>  och  which  brinf^  us  nearly  t( 
the  close  of  this  great  act  in  the  career  of  Francis 
As  this  treaty  removed  all  fearb  of  these  provinces  fall- 
inp^  into  the  hands  of  the  Protestants  of  Beme,  the 
Bishop  determined  to  celebrate  a  Quarant'  Ore  at  Tho- 
non  by  way  of  thankspvin^.  After  several  delays, 
this  solemnity  was  celebrated  with  sreat  rejoicing  on 
September  2(rth;  duiing  ^he  whole  time  it  lasted,  pro- 
eession  after  procession  entered  Thonon  from  the  neigh- 
bouring villages,  composed  of  converts  who  wished  pub- 
licly to  renounce  their  heresy,  and  be  received  into  the 
Catholic  Church.  Conversions  on  such  a  scale  had 
probably  never  been  witnessed  since  the  miracles  of 
Pentecost.  Pontifical  Mass  was  celebrated  by  the 
Bishop  of  Geneva  in  the  choreh  of  St.  Augustine,  and 
the  Blessed  Sacrament  wait  iien  carried  in  triumph 
tbrough  the  principal  streets.  On  the  first  day  there 
•rrivM  successively  bands  of  penitents  from  Taninge, 
Bellevauz,  Bo^ge,  St.  Cergues,  Fessy,  and  Perrigny, 
dad  in  white,  and  most  or  them  seeking  to  be  recon 
eiled  to  the  Church.  On  the  following  day  came  similar 
processions  from  Cluses,  Sallanches,  and  the  mountain- 
districts  of  Faucigny ;  then  a  procession  from  Bonne- 
fille:  *.hen  a  procession  of  the  nobili^  of  the  Chablaii^ 
■notiier  from  Evian,  and,  lastly,  one  from  Temier. 

On  September  SOth,  the  Duke  of  Savoy  and  tht 
Cardinal  ae  Media  (afterwards  Pope  Leo  Xl.),  who 
had  been  the  chief  negotiator  m  the  treaty  of  Vervins, 
•rrived  m  Thonon ;  and  the  Quarant'  Ore  was  solemnly 
fenewed  on  October  1st,  in  the  church  of  St.  Augus- 
tbe,  the  duke  and  cardinal,  with  all  the  nobles  of  the 
Wurt,  assisting  at  the  ceremonies,  which  were  conducted 
with  extraordinary  splendour.  There  were  processions 
9t  the  Blessed  Sacrament  through  the  streets,  which 
wera  riohly  adorned  with  tapestry  and  Terdure;  and 
•wisof  mihlmnitiial  azhiVtoBi.  m  tht  i^la  of  Urn 


.0 


d 

If 
b 
d 


I 


CB.  XT.]  fT.  nuncu  db  salss  81 

tff«y  were  rot  r  p  tc  express  the  popular  sense  of  thanlci- 

Svin{^.  Himlreds  oi  people  kept  flocking  to  make 
eir  abjuraticn;  and  the  Quarant  Ore  terminated  with 
ihe  inaug^uration  of  a  cruciAx  in  a  street  called,  in  Ca- 
tholic times,  "  Cross  Street,"  from  a  remarkable  crucifix 
which  had  been  overthrown  by  the  heretics.  Francia 
de  Sales  preached  the  sermon  on  this  joyful  occasion: 
and  thenceforward  the  Chablais  might  oe  conridered 
once  more,  what  it  has  continued  ever  since,  a  Catholio 
eountry.  The  very  few  heretics  who  remained  either 
yielded  to  the  very  moderate  and  reasonable  exercise 
of  the  civil  power,  which  at  last  the  Duke  thought  it 
his  duty  to  put  forth,  and  which  simply  amounted  to 
the  establishment  of  Catholicity  as  the  state  religion,  to 
the  exclusion  of  Protestantism;  or  else  sought  refuge  ir 
the  more  congenial  atmosphere  of  Berne  and  Genevi^ 
The  spiritual  conquests  acliieved  by  Francis,  in  the  con- 
▼ersions  we  have  recorded,  were  commonly  reckoned  tc 
•mount  to  72,000  souls. 

The  holy  missioner  now  retired  to  take  rest  for  • 
•hort  time  at  the  castle  of  Sales.    His  father  had  Ions 
■ince  acquiesced  in  his  son's  heroic  undertaking,  and 
the  castle  had  become  a  general  refuge  for  those  of  tht 
converts  of  Francis  who  were  thrown  upon  the  world 
Whilst  he  was  on  this  visit,  the  venerable  Bishop  o! 
Geneva  earnestly  pressed  him  to  accept  the  coadjutor* 
ihip,  which  he  had  long  destined  for  him.    Francis, 
like  most  of  the  saints  who  have  been  called  to  the 
episcopal  dignity,  long  resisted ;  and  it  was  only  after 
rehement  entreaties  on  the  part  of  the  bishop,  hii 
dergy,  and  all  his  friends,  that  he  at  last  perceived  it 
was  the  will  of  Almighty  God  he  should  midertake  this 
dreaded  responsibility.    Shortly  tf»r  this,  he  fell  sick 
of  a  fever,  from  wmch,  after  nis  life  for  a  time  was 
despaired  )f,  he  wonderfully  recovered.    During  part 
of  this  iUness  he  was  afflicted  with  terrible  temptations 
against  the  faith;  especially  with  a  particular  omectioa 
against  the  Real  Plresenoe  of  Jesus  Corist  in  the  Blessed 
flaavamanL  th^  fflhitily  to  which  ha  did  O0t  find  osl 


|?i'-i^ 


di 


mr 


m  ?•> 


m  i».  nuiroit  tm  ULmk 

dl  after  bu  raooTory.  This  temptation  he  at  the 
•vercame  by  frequent  acts  of  faith,  invocation  of  th« 
Holy  Name  of  Jesus,  and  the  use  of  the  sign  of  the 
Cross.  He  always  revised  to  tell  any  one  what  this 
temptation  was,  except  his  cousin  Louis  de  Sales,  under 
a  promise  of  secrecy, — fearing  lest  weaker  minds  might 
pMoeiye  ^iie  difficulty  more  readily  than  thay  could  ita 


■    H 


'i 


t.l 


•t.  f  lUHOM  hU  tALtii 


OHAPTEB  T 
AVKoumom  or  vbahois  db  iaum  to  nu  ooapjiiiimi  hi  «r 

OSmTA— HU  VISIT  TO  Bom. 

On  hit  recoyery,  Francis  de  Sales  started  for  Rome,  in 
Feb.  1609,  alon^  with  the  Abb^  de  Chiss^,  nephew  and 
▼icar*general  otthe  Bishop  of  Geneva.   Havii^p  arrived 
at  the  Holy  City,  he  visited  with  the  utmost  ardour  of 
devotion  most  of  its  great  sanctuaries ;  and,  in  particu- 
lar, his  visit  to  the  catacombs  was  noticed  as  having 
filled  him  with  extraordinaiy  sentiments  of  charity  and 
consolation.     On  one  occasion,  the  Abb6  de  Ghiss^ 
found  him  in  the  catacombs  in  such  an  ecstasy  of  prayer, 
that  he  scarcely  perceived  what  was  passing  or  who 
addressed  him;  he  was  shedding  tears  so  proiuselyi 
that  for  a  moment  his  iriend  thou&ht  that  he  must 
have  had  some  bad  tidings  from  home.    This  deep 
emotion  in  visiting  the  catacombs  constitutes  a  remark- 
able iK)int  of  simirarity  between  the  spirit  of  St.  Philip 
Neri  and  St.  Francis  de  Sales.    The  holy  founder  of 
the  Oratorians  used  to  spend  whole  days  in  the  cata- 
combs, in  order  to  penetrate  his  whole  soul  with  th« 
atmosphere  of  the  primitive  ages  of  the  Church;  and 
it  was  there  that  Francis  learnt  to  become  the  very 
image  of  the  life  of  the  early  bisliO])s  and  doctors.   The 
visit  to  the  catacombs  which  we  have  described  was  on 
the  13th  of  March;  and  it  wa«  on  the  following  daj^ 
that  Francis  was  fii-st  presented  to  the  Po})e  by  Cardi- 
nal de  Medici,  who,  in  introducing  him,  called  him  by 
the  title  of  "  the  Apostle  of  tlio  Clmblais."     In  this  in- 
terview Francis  presented  to  the  Holy  Father  a  great 
number  of  requ<)sts  on  the  pait  of  his  l)ishop,  of  which 
the  most  intei'esting  was  a  ]ietition  for  the  separation 
of  the  benefices  of  the  Chablais  from  the  military  order 
•f  fiCL  MasriM  and  Lasarui.    Ai  tha  tiinn  mam  Um 


W  fT.  VKAVOII  DB  SALIi, 

mtj  >if  Omera  ezpelloci  its  Bishop,  aud  Calviiusni  i 
flf^iftbliehed  throug'hout  the  province,  Gregory  XI IL 
bad  adopted  a  very  bold  but  sagacious  expeaient  fof 
keeping  the  ChvLnih  property  out  of  the  hands  oi  the 
Protestants;  he  ti^isi'erred  it  provisionally  from  the 
elei^  to  the  Knights  of  SS.  Maurice  and  Lazarus: 
their  energy  and  determination  not  bei*ig  likely  to  jrield 
to  the  cupidity  of  the  Protestants.  They  were  to  give 
np  the  pro{)erty,  if  ever  the  Catholic  religion  should 
be  restored,  ana  meanwhile  to  pay  the  8ti|)ends  of  the 
■mall  number  of  priests  who  were  required  for  the  di- 
minished Catholic  po])ulation.  The  measure,  in  the 
end,  was  completely  successiiil ;  but  for  a  time,  as  we 
•hall  see,  the  selfish  desire  of  the  knights  to  detain  the 
property  after  all  reason  for  their  provisional  ten»u«  r* 
it  hod  ceased,  gave  a  great  deal  ot  trouble.  By  other 
trticles  in  his  petition,  the  Bishop  asked  leave  to  devote 
%  portion  of  the  tithes,  offerings,  and  other  revenues,  to 
make  up  for  the  deficiencies  in  the  stipends  of  the  cur^ 
end  to  support  a  certain  number  of  ecclesiastics,  to  bt 
called  canons-theological,  whose  services  in  preaching 
would  be  especially  necessary  in  a  country  like  the 
Chablais,  newly  recovered  from  heresy.  Various  powerk 
of  dispensation  were  asik.v'Ml  for,  in  consideration  of  the 
great  distance  and  poverty  of  the  inhabitants.  The 
most  curious,  however,  of  tne  articles,  to  the  eye  of  an 
•ntiauarian,  is  one  in  which  the  Bishop  demand^  powor 
to  aoolish  the  exaction  of  certam  servitudes  from  the 
eubjects  of  the  diocese,  which  appeared  insulting  and 
painful  alike  for  a  Chnstian  bisuop  to  exact,  and  for 
Lie  subjects  to  render.  One  of  these  was  an  old  oue- 
tom  by  which  the  inhabitants  on  the  bordera  of  the 
lake  were  obliged  to  keep  watch  to  hinder  the  frM;i 
from  croaking,  and  thereby  disturbing  tlie  rest  of  toe 
prelate.  This  was  a  relio  of  the  feudal  simplicity  of 
the  middle  ages,  which  the  times  of  course  nad  long 
outgrown^  and  which  had  become  only  an  irritating 
■ouxoe  of  annoyance  and  humiliation.  Among  otiur 
fwratkiM  outome  wm  tlie  right  of  tho  Biibflp  to  kt 


i; 


m,r.] 


•T.  rm^wotf  D«  tALM. 


69 


lole  h«ir  U*  testators  who  died  childlem.  It  wu  the 
influence  of  Francit*  which  brought  about  the  remoTtl 
of  these  and  similar  burdens. 

At  another  interview,  the  Abb6  de  Chiss^  |ire- 
iented  to  the  Holy  Father  the  Bishop's  demand  that 
Francis  should  be  Lis  coadjutor,  with  the  right  of  8iio> 
cession.  This  was  granted  in  the  most  cracious  tertnf, 
and  March  the  22d  was  appointed  for  his  examination. 
Francis,  as  usual  at  all  great  steps  of  his  life,  prepa.xd 
for  this  event  by  long  meditations  at  the  foot  of  the 
crucifix,  by  s})ending  almost  the  whole  night  in  prayeft 
and  by  saying  Mas^^  for  that  intention.  In  his  nnu 
prayers  on  this  occasion  he  made  the  heroic  petition  to 
our  Lord,  that,  supposing  he  would  be  a  useless  senrant 
in  the  episcopal  omce,  he  might  pass  a  bad  examina- 
tion ana  be  overwhelmed  with  confiision.  The  exa- 
mination, indeed,  was  of  a  kind  to  appal  any  one  not 
possessed  of  considerable  firmness  as  well  as  learning. 
It  was  held  in  a  hall  of  the  pontifical  |f/idace,  in  the 
presence  of  the  Pojie,  seated  on  his  throne  and  sur- 
rounded by  an  august  assembly  of  Cardinals,  among 
whom  were  Frederic  DoiTomeo,  Baronius,  Borghesa, 
and  Medici.  Bell&rmine  was  also  present,  and  a  number 
of  less  known  but  still  important  persons  of  the  day. 

Such  an  effect  had  this  grand  sight  upon  a  Spaniih 
prelate,  who  was  to  be  examined  on  the  same  occasion, 
that  he  fainted,  and  was  obliged  to  be  taken  out.  The 
ntmost  kindness  was  shown  nim,  and  leaTe  wai  giveL 
for  him  to  be  consecrated  without  the  usual  exami- 
nation; but  he  actually  expired  within  a  few  hours. 
Francis  de  Sales  was  examined  by  the  Pope  himself 
and  by  the  other  great  theologians  whom  we  have 
named.  TKirty-five  (j^uestions  were  put  to  him  on  Tan- 
ous  subjects  of  the  civil  and  canon  law  and  of  theology, 
only  two  of  which  have  been  preserved.  The  fint  of 
these  was  asked  by  Bellaimine,  and  turned  upon  tha 
Formal  cause  of  the  beatitude  of  the  Saints,  ir  regard  to 
(rhioh  Francis  adopted  the  opinions  of  those  who  mam- 
Min  that  it  bahnffi  to  tha  iatallMi  «ad  tht  wOl^  plMii^ 


I 


1 


^1 


^jl^MMMMMMM* 


Mr  ST.  FftAHOIt  DB  lALBB. 

H  in  the  ^ore  of  the  superior  good  which  is  won,  mA  ia 
the  Tision  of  the  Superior  Being  Who  is  loved.  The 
other,  which  was  asked  hy  the  Holy  Fatheis  reia^d 
to  the  powers  of  dis|tensation  enjojea  by  Bishops,  in 
which  rraucis  expressed  a  view  which  his  Holineu 
Gorreoted,  and  which  Fi-ancis  at.  once  modestly  with- 
drew. The  highest  admiration  t^  is  felt  by  all  at  the 
manner  in  whion  he  passed  the  exaraiitation;  and  at  itf 
conclusion^  Clement  VlII.,  descendir?  irom  his  throne, 
embraced  the  holy  bishop  electa  and  BViid  in  a  lour 
▼oice ;  BihefMi  fn«,  aqiuitn  de  cisteifid  tud^  etjiamta 
fnitei  tin  ;  tisriventur  fontes  tui  joragj  et  in  plateis 
aguat  iuas  dic^de  (Pjot.  ▼.  16, 16).  "  Drink,  my  son, 
water  out  j)f  thv  own  cistern,  and  the  streams  of  thy 
own  well :  let  thy  fountains  oe  conveyed  abroad,  and 
in  the  streets  divide  thy  waters."  The  bulls  appointing 
Francis  de  Sales  Bishop  of  Nicopolis  and  coac^utor  of 
Geneva  were  expedited  on  March  24tli ;  and  the  Holy 
Father  sanctioned  all  the  arrangements  proposed  by 
the  holy  prelate  with  reference  to  the  anaii-s  of  the 
diocese,  and  the  reconstruction  of  the  religious  esta- 
blishment of  the  Chablais.  In  this  case,  therefore,  the 
delay  habitual  to  the  conduct  of  business  in  Home  was 
not  extended  very  far ;  though,  indeed,  Francis  praised 
that  slowness,  not  only  as  a  proof  of  the  wisdom  of 
the  Holy  See,  but  as  giving  time  to  strangers  to  satisfy 
their  devotion  in  the  sanctuaries  of  the  Holy  City. 

Wliilst  at  Rome,  Francis  contracted  intimate  friend- 
ship with  several  of  the  great  men  then  livin|!;  there,  such 
asBellarmine,  Bai'onius,  and  Giovenali  Ancma,  the  last* 
mentioned  of  whom  afteiwards  became  Bishop  of  Sa- 
hizzo  in  Piedmont,  and  was  visited  thei-e  by  Fiuncis. 
Ancina,  like  Bnronius,  was  among  the  most  eminent  dis- 
ciples of  St.  Philip  Neri;  and  from  them  Francis  imbibed 
much  oi  the  spint  of  the  Oratory,  which  he  calls  in  his 
letterSf  preeclarum  viuenili  modttm.  He  left  Rome  on 
March  31st,  and  returned  to  Piedmont,  takmg  Loretto  in 
his  way,  where  he  ^ain  paid  deep  and  ardent  homafft 
IP  tin  Biassad  Yirgm  in  tha  Hdj  Housa  of  Ifaiara^ 


OB.  T.J  IT.  VRANOIS  Dl  lALIt.  fl 

where  her  most  favoured  children  have  reoeited  lo  man} 
rraces,  and  offered  up  so  many  tows.  He  also  Tisited 
Milan,  where  he  obtiuned  the  "  life"  of  St.  Charles  Bor- 
romeo,  to  whom  he  always  had  a  great  devotion,  and 
by  whose  example  he  very  much  ffuided  himself. 

On  arriving  at  Annecy,  the  first  affair  he  had  to 
transact  was  the  difficult  and  thorny  undertaking  oi 
transferring  the  Church-propei'ty  of  the  Chahluis  and 
the  adjoining  bailiwicks  n-om  the  knights  of  SS.  Laza- 
rus and  Maurice  to  its  original  destination.  Though 
the  fact  tliat  these  districts  were  now  almost  entirely 
converted  to  the  Catholic  faith  was  patent  and  undem- 
able,  and  cense(]uently  no  excuse  could  be  offered  for 
maintaining  wiitit  ti'om  the  firat  was  only  a  pravisional 
state  of  things,  yet  the  knights  pertinaciously  insisted 
that  they  j)rovided  yearly  payment  for  a  sufficient  num- 
ber of  priests;  when  it  was  evident  that  the  Catholic 
population  required  far  more  than  they  allowed.  In 
the  spirit  of  a  mere  corporation,  they  offered  the  most 
vexatious  opposition;  and  no  less  than  two  years  elapsed 
before  even  the  unwearied  patience  and  wonderful  tact 
of  Francis  de  Sales  were  able  to  carry  out  the  arrange- 
ments, for  which  he  had  obtained  the  sanction  both  of 
the  Holy  See  and  of  the  government  of  Savoy. 

Another  favourite  scheme  he  had  devised  was,  to 
remove  the  seat  of  the  bishopric  from  Annecy  to  Tho- 
Qon;  a  change  which  would  nrobabl^  have  had  a  great 
effect  in  strengthening  the  raith  of  the  newly-revived 
population.  So  many  difficulties,  however,  attended  the 
cari'ying  out  of  this  idea,  that  he  was  obliged  to  give  it 
up.  He  succeeded,  however,  in  founding  a  very  remai'k- 
aole  institution,  which  he  had  meditated  for  a  long  time^ 
and  the  plan  of  which  he  had  placed  before  the  Holy 
See  in  his  visit  to  Rome.  This  was  an  establishment, 
which,  under  the  name  of  the  "  Holy  House,"  was  in- 
tended to  assist  those  of  the  converts  in  the  Chablaii 
whose  reconciUation  to  the  Church  had  placed  them  in 
temporal  difficulties,  as  well  as  for  other  purpoMt  whioh 
«•  ihall  pNMiitly  OMorib* 


m. 


■v.  fiAvon  Di  lAim 


CHAPTIB  YL 


iM 


wwnmATum  ov  **  thb  holt  Hocn"— tuit  to  faiis. 

It  is  obyioTis  that  when  such  a  number  of  converrioni 
had  been  effected  in  the  manner  we  have  related,  casei 
of  great  individual  suffering  must  often  have  occurred. 
Had  the  whole  population  oeen  simultaneously  recon- 
ciled to  the  Church,  matters  would,  of  course,  havt 
gme  on  after  the  conversions  as  they  did  befora 
ut  the  movement,  although  ultimately  taking  in  the 
entire  people,  was,  as  we  have  seen,  a  very  gradual 
i^bir,  extending  over  a  number  of  years.  ConvertS| 
hereiore,  from  time  to  time  were  tlm)wn  out  of  em- 
[doyment,  and  families  broken  up ;  so  that  an  amount 
of  distress  was  commonly  witnessed  of  a  similar  kind 
to  what  has  taken  place  in  England  during  the  last 
ten  years.  Francis  de  Sales  assisted  the  poor  eon- 
rerts  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  and  was  in  the  habit 
ti  raising  money  from  his  wealthier  friends  for  the 
•ame  purpose.  The  necessities,  however,  which  were 
daily  mcreasing,  required  some  larger  and  more  per- 
manent means  of  relief  than  private  and  occasional 
charity  could  supply.  There  was  another  reason  also 
which  made  it  very  important  that  some  means  of  em- 
ployment should  be  opened,  adequate  to  provide  for  the 
oonverts,  and  in  the  city  of  Thonon  itself.  The  con- 
tinual communication  with  Geneva,  for  the  sake  of 
traffic,  service,  and  business  in  genei^l;  was  attenHrd 
with  great  danger  to  the  faith  of  the  pooi  converts 
of  Thonon.  The  lower  classes  resorted  thither  for  mer- 
chandise, or  to  obtain  places  as  servants,  and  the  higher 
ranks  of  society  (or  education.  The  authorities  ot  Q«> 
neva,  moreover,  put  a  sort  of  premium  on  apostasy, 
bgr  holding  ovt  every  kind  of  civii  advantage  at  tot 


OB.  n.J  VI.  FR41fOIl  Ol  lAbSa*  flt 

rawtrd  of  abjuring^  the  Catholic  religion.  On  the  oiher 
hantli  the  peraeoution  to  which  those  inhabitants  of  Q*> 
odva  were  aubjectod  who  embraced  Catholicitjr,  droTt 
many  into  ezue,  or  plunged  them  into  the  depths  of 
poverty.  It  was  therefore  desirable,  as  far  as  possible. 
to  break  the  connection  between  the  newly-redaimoa 

Srovinees  and  those  head-(}uarters  of  hos^^tj  to  tht 
athoUo  Church,  by  providing  for  the  new  converts  tlie 
means  of  livehhood  at  home.  Lastly,  it  was  now  an 
object  of  the  most  pressing  importance,  to  educate  olergr 
for  the  spiritual  provision  of  the  thousands  gathered 
indeed  into  the  fold,  but  who  were  without  any  thing 
like  a  sufficient  staff  of  pastors  to  take  care  of  ^em. 
The  number  brought  over  by  Francis  and  his  three  or 
four  assistants  required  a  large  body  of  clergy  through- 
out the  province ;  and  this,  even  wnen  the  difficult  of 
endowments  was  overcome,  could  not  be  supplied  nn- 
laii  an  extensive  seminary  were  created.  Tne  institn* 
tion  which  Francis  de  Sales  founaed  to  meet  this  pur- 
pose  has  been  comparatively  lost  sight  of  in  the  lustra 
of  the  great  religious  order  with  which  his  name  is 
associatM.  It  was,  nevertheless,  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting kind,  and  fiill  of  hints  which  may  be  studied 
Irith  graat  advantage  in  our  own  times. 

"The  Holy  House,"  which  name  he  probably  ■§- 
siffned  to  it  from  a  devout  remembrance  ofthe  joy  with 
which  he  bad  virited  the  hallowed  shrine  of  lioretto^ 
was  a  sort  of  combination  ofthe  universi^,  the  religious 
oongregation,  and  the  mechanics'  guild.  As  a  umver- 
sity,  it  was  to  supply  the  means  of  education  which  had 
been  sought  for  at  Geneva;  as  a  religious  congrega- 
tion, it  was  to  train  up  a  body  of  priests  qualified  xoi 
eanying  on  the  great  missionary  work  which  he  had 
begun ;  and  as  a  mechanics'  g^iild,  it  was  not  only  to 
teach  various  trades  to  those  who  might  be  out  of  em- 
ployment, but  also  to  furnish  a  market  for  their  laboum 
In  this  respect,  the  idea  of  it  reminds  us  of  one  of  tna 
most  interesting  ofthe  numerous  institutions  ofCathdie 
Fs«Boa  at  tha  praM&t  day,— wa  alluda  to  the  (Bmr$  di 


,'l 


ift  -■: 


'K    1 


■0  !  ;; 


M  ST.  nUNOM  OB  fALIIb 

S,  Nicola*  at  Paris,  where  poor  bojs  are  taught  handi< 
eraft  trades;  and  with  sucu  sunc698,  that  the  institute 
itself  is  not  only  self-supporting,  hut  is  effeoting  won« 
ders  for  the  amelioration  of  what  are  called  the  dan 
gerous  classes.  The  }loly  House,  moreover,  was  it 
speneral  to  furnish  a  refuge  for  those  converts  who  mi^ht 
be  thrown  upon  tlie  world,  till  some  permanent  situation 
oould  he  found  for  them. 

It  were  much  to  be  <ished  that  we  had  details  as  to 
the  practical  working  o.'  he  secular  part  of  this  insti- 
tution ;  but  of  this  we  know  little,  altliou^h  the  infor- 
mation on  record  as  to  the  ecclesiastical  oiepartment  is 
both  copious  and  interesting. 

The  estabhshment  was  founded  in  virtue  of  a  bull 
of  Pope  Clem-nt  VIII.  What  conrstitutes  a  very  cu- 
rious and  chanicteristic  feature  of  it  is,  that  it  was  to 
be  governed  by  a  prefect  and  seven  secular  pnests,  woo 
wei*e  to  follow  as  much  as  possible  the  niles  of  the  Ro- 
man Oratory.  In  the  statutes  dr.iwn  up  for  the  Holy 
Hon<<e  by  Francis,  it  is,  in  tiict,  called  "  the  Omtory  of 
our  Lady  of  Compassion  of  Thonon."  Tlie  holy  disciple 
of  St.  Philip  Neri,  Cardinal  Buronius,  was  appointed  its 
first  protector ;  Francis  himself  being  its  first  prefect. 

It  was  constituttul  into  a  regular  universitv,  parti 
culitrlv  on  the  model  of  those  ol'  Bologna  and  I'erugia, 
and  divided  into  four  sections,  according  to  the  purposes 
we  have  montioned ;  the  fiist,  which  was,  in  fact,  an 
ecclesiastical  seminary,  consisting  of  the  above-men- 
tioned prefect  and  seven  priests,  and  jf  seven  choristers. 
The  most  important  of  their  rules  were  <i8  follow :  The 
hour  of  rising  was  to  be  at  four  o'clock  from  Easter  to 
All  Saints'  day;  there  was  to  be  Mass  every  morning: 
Hie  whole  of  the  Divine  Office  to  bo  chanted  on  fes- 
tivals of  the  first  class,  and  on  those  of  the  Blessed 
V^irgin;  on  other  days  the}'  were  to  chant  the  three 
last  little  hours,  with  Vespers  and  Compline,  and  alwayi 
to  observe  with  the  most  scnipulous  exactness  the  cere- 
monial of  the  Cathedral  of  Geneva.  All  the  priestt 
wwf  to  at^dd  vrmj  Mondaj  •  oonftrnM  «a  mtm  of 


«■  TI.]  IT.  FBAirOIt  91  lAUIb  61 

•ODsdoioe  and  ooremonies ;  tad  anothflr  on  ^leidAy,  <m 
the  tpiritual  and  temporal  adminiitration  of  the  house, 
and  on  the  ohserranoe  of  the  rules.  Thej  i«  ere  to  dine  at 
a  common  tahle,  never  to  leave  the  house  without  men- 
tioning where  they  were  going,  and  to  return  in  the  even> 
ing  at  the  ringing  of  the  Angelus.  There  were  to  ht 
two  almoners  charged  with  the  distrihution  of  relief  to  the 
poor.  The  second  department  was  devoted  to  preach- 
mg,  tnd  consisted  or  a  certain  number  of  Capuchin 
fhars,  who  were  to  go  about  and  assist  the  secular 
clergy  in  that  way.  The  educational  department  was 
at  m«t  placed  under  the  care  of  the  Jesuits ;  afterwai'ds 
lay  teacners  held  it  for  a  time,  but  managed  the  busi- 
ness very  indifferently.  The  Damabites  were  finally 
engaged  for  those  duties,  and  in  their  hands  the  college 
prospered  exceedingly.  The  remaining  department  of 
the  college  was  devoted  to  the  new  converts,  or  to  per- 
sons desurous  of  instruction.  Here  the  poorest  were 
taught  trades  and  handicrafts,  and  put  in  the  way  of 
gaining  their  Uvelihood. 

Whilst  Francis  was  thus  engaged  in  the  very  thick 
of  negotiation  and  practical  labours,  his  pen  was  not 
idle.  In  the  early  part  of  the  year  1600  he  completed 
a  g^reat  controversial  work,  the  Standard  of  the  Holy 
CroUy  in  reply  to  a  pamphlet,  in  which  tfie  Calvinist 
minister  Lafaye  had  poured  out  abuse  against  the 
homage  Catholics  pay  to  the  symbol  of  our  redemption. 
The  book  is  richly  himished  with  authorities  from  the 
Sacred  Scripture,  from  the  fathers  fu^d  doctors,  and  is 
an  excellent  storehouse  of  arguments  io*  the  Catiiolic 
reasoner;  though  less  know^  curonfi!<itively  speaking, 
than  the  devotional  treatises  of  our  Saint. 

The  same  year,  a  collision  between  France  aiid  Savoy 
l^aced  the  pacific  conquests  of  the  holy  Bisliop  in  great 
danger.  By  another  treaty  concluded  at  Paris  between 
Henry  IV.  and  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  the  latter  had  en- 
gagea  to  cede  to  the  king  the  marquisate  of  Saluzzo,  • 
cLiBtrijt  the  Dukes  of  Savoy  had  seized  during  the  wan 
(tf  the  League,  on  condition  of  noaifinf  th«  pcofinc*  gf 


10  tr.  nUVOIt  DB  lALUb 

La  BretM  uid  tome  other  disputed  posMssIoni.  Heni^ 
IV.  baying  frilfilled  his  part  of  the  agreement,  the  Dukt 
of  Savoy  refused  to  give  up  Saluzzo ;  and  the  conse- 
quttnoe  was,  that  those  provinces  of  Savoy  adjoining'  to 
France,  among  whioh  were  the  Chahlais  and  Temicr, 
were  immediately  occupied  by  the  French  forces,  under 
the  command  of  the  Duke  of  Lesdiguierds,  of  whom  wo 
shall  hear  afterwards.  The  republic  of  Geneva,  of  course, 
aided  this  invasion,  and  petitioned  Henry  IV.  to  extend 
the  £dict  of  Nantes  to  their  country,  so  as  to  restore 
he  free  exercise  of  the  Protestant  relipon,  and  in  all 
|irobabihty  destroy  the  results  of  the  nve  years  of  toil 
which  Francis  had  bestowed  upon  them.  The  holy 
Drelate  sought  and  obtained  an  interview  with  the  great 
Henry  at  the  castle  of  Annecy ;  and  such  was  the  im- 
pression produced  upon  that  wise  monarch,  both  by  thi 
arguments  which  Francis  de  Sales  urged  for  the  inte- 
rests of  Catholicity,  and  by  the  charm  of  his  manneri 
and  presence,  that  the  king  promised  that  no  chanffa 
■hould  take  place  in  the  ecclesiastical  affairs  of  tfia 
f/hablais.  He  was  treated  by  the  king  with  the  bigheil 
jonsideration ;  and  it  was  noticed  even  that  Henry  IV 
held  his  hat  in  his  hand  during  the  entire  conference,— 
an  extraordinary  mark  of  respect  in  that  age  of  eti 
miette  and  formality.  During  the  course  of  this  war, 
Francis  de  Sales,  having  occasion  to  yisit  the  castle  of 
Allinges,  in  order  to  remonstrate  with  the  governor, 
whom  the  Calvinists  had  induced  to  seize  on  some  of 
the  Church-property,  was  taken  prisoner  by  a  party  of 
the  French  soldiers.  Their  commander,  the  Marquia 
de  Vitry,  showed  him  the  utmost  reverence,  and  aided 
him  in  stopping  the  further  inyasion  of  those  righti 
which  Henry  IV.  had  guaranteed.  During  the  re- 
mainder of  tne  year  he  was  employed  in  the  reconstru^ 
tion  of  the  parishes  m  the  converted  districts;  and  sue- 
fleeded  in  settling  no  fewer  than  twenty-five,  in  arrange 
mg  an  excellent  system  of  grouping  the  different  parishei 
m  Uie  manner  of  rural  deaneries,  in  distributing  amongst 
m  dm  firoportioF,  the  prooaada  of  tht  proparsy 


TI.J 


•T.  nu  jf  en  db  iiiaib 


hitherto  held  bj  the  knights  of  SS.  Maurioe  tod 
roMf  and  lastly,  in  apfwintinff  priests  to  each  of  tht 
parishes.  In  the  spnnr  of  Uie  following  year,  1601/ 
be  had  the  affliction  oflosin^i^  his  father.  The  bra?! 
old  noble  made  a  most  Christian  end:  feeling,  indeed^ 
that  it  was  a  sacrifice  for  him,  a  knigut  who  had  seen 
10  man;^  hard-fought  fields,  to  die  ingloriously  in  hif 
bed.  lake  Siward  Earl  of  Northumberland,  in  our  old 
history,  he  wanted  to  have  his  armour  brought  to  hiniy 
that  at  least  he  might  die  in  harness.  But  these  humai 
feelings,  the  result  of  the  chivalrous  ideas  in  which  h» 
had  been  brought  up,  gave  place  to  holier  thoughta. 
On  taking  leave  of  his  children,  he  charged  them  to  re- 
vere Francis  as  their  father,  and  died  with  the  greatest 
rebignatr'on  and  piety,  after  having  devoutly  received 
the  last  Sacraments.  Francis  was  absent  at  the  time  of 
his  death,  being^  engaged  in  preaching  the  Lent  at  An- 
neoy.  lie  received  the  news  as  he  was  ascending  th« 
pulpit;  but  preached  nevertheless  with  his  usual  calm- 
ness, recommftnding,  at  the  close  of  his  sermon,  tht 
soul  of  his  good  father  to  the  prayen  of  hia  fiuthM 
flock. 

The  disputes  between  France  and  Savoy  were  tl 
length  adjuf)ted  by  a  fresh  treaty  contracted  at  Lyon% 
by  which  the  latter  government  yielded  to  the  former, 
among  other  possessions,  the  important  territories  to  tht 
north  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  called  the  Pays  de  Oex^ 
belonging  to  the  diocese  of  Geneva,  and  containing 
thiity-seven  parishes,  with  about  80,000  inhabitants. 
The  bailiwick  of  Gaillard,  a  small  district  adjoininor 
Thonon,  was  ceded  to  Savoy  bv  the  same  treaty,  ana 
the  Catholic  religion  re-estaDlished  in  it  without  any 
great  trouble:  the  conversion  of  the  Chablais  having 
made  the  work  genei-ally  much  easier,  and  there  being 
still  considerable  traces  of  the  faith  among  the  people^ 
among  whom  Calvinism  had  only  prevailed  about  sizlj 

2 ears.    The  tenitory  of  Gex  presented  a  more  difficult 
usiness ;  the  repubuo  of  Geneva  making  it  a  strong 
pinat  to  obtain  from  HtDiy  IV.  tht  ritifiottkn  of  thw 


•T.  FRAlfOIf  VE  tALM. 


fminst  tenvre  of  Mreral  Tillages,  of  wMeb  they  haA 
roobed  the  cathedral  chapter  of  Geneya,  and  which 
would  have  furnished  so  many  centres  of  proselytism 
throughout  the  province.  The  Bishop  of  Gfeneva  sent 
Francis  de  Sales  to  Paris  to  counteract  these  claims  of 
the  Calvinist  republic.  He  was  accompanied  on  his 
journey  by  the  President  Favre,  whose  vast  legal  at- 
^inments  and  hi^h  consideration  in  Savoy,  no  less 
than  his  ancient  fiiendship  for  Francis  de  Sales,  made 
his  presence  valuable  on  such  a  mission.  They  arrived 
ai  Paris  on  Jan.  22d,  1602;  and  Francis  remained  there 
several  months,  as  the  negotiation  proved  a  very  tedious 
one.  Francis  presented  an  elaborate  memorial  to  Henry 
TV.,  demanding  the  free  exercise  of  the  Catholic  re- 
ligion in  Gex,  and  the  restitution  of  so  much  of  the 
Gnurch  property  as  bad  been  appropriated  during  the 
f^ie  troubles.  Henry  IV.  ana  his  politic  minister 
Villeroi  were  very  slow  in  meeting  these  demands ;  anu 
Francis  had  abundant  opportunities  for  the  practice  of 
his  unwearied  patience  ana  tact.  Yet  his  stay  at  Paris 
was  full  of  advantage  to  the  Church.  The  brilliant 
court  of  the  French  capital  was  completely  carried 
away  with  admiration  for  the  eloquence  of  the  coad- 
jutor A'  Geneva,  or  by  that  indescribable  charm  which 
nis  very  presence  exercised  on  all  who  beheld  him.  At 
the  request  of  Marie  of  Luxembourg",  Duchess  of  Mer- 
oceur,  he  preachad  in  the  church  of  Notre  Dame  a  ser* 
mon  at  the  obsequies  of  her  husband,  Pliilip- Emmanuel 
of  Lorraine,  before  a  princely  array  of  cardinals,  pre- 
lates, and  the  great  noolesse  of  Fitmce;  on  which  occa^ 
sion  not  only  tue  eloquence  and  piety  of  his  words  were 
admired,  but  also  the  exquii^ite  pioidence  he  displayed 
in  his  eulogy  of  the  deceased  duke,  who,  as  a  cliief  ol 
the  League,  had  been  a  tbrmida))le  enemy  of  Henry  IV, 
During  his  whole  stay  in  Paris,  which'  lasted  for  six 
months,  Francis  was  continually  p]*eaching,  leaving 
himself  hardly  time  to  eat  or  sleep;  and  his  seal  was 
"ewarded  by  several  great  converaions  among  the  Cal* 
vinift  noblMse.    One  of  them  was  a  Countess  de  Per> 


.  TI.] 


•T,  FRANOIf  Dl  BALU. 


I 


dreauTille;  who  received  her  first  impressions  in  faTow 
of  CathoUcity  from  a  sermon  preacU  by  Francis  on 
the  Last  Judgment,  without  the  introduction  of  any 
controversial  matter  at  all.  Henry  IV.  himself,  one  of 
the  most  sagacious  observers  of  his  time,  was  exceed- 
ingly struck  with  the  holy  prelate,  and  always  snoks 
or  him  in  terms  of  the  utmost  admiration.  '^  M.  de 
Gendve,"  said  he,  "is  the  very  phoenix  of  prelates. 
The  rest  have  almost  always  their  weak  side :  m  one  it 
is  learning,  in  another  piety,  in  others  birth ;  whereas 
M.  de  Gendve  unites  all  in  the  highest  degree,  both 
illustrious  birth,  and  rai'e  learning,  and  eminent  piety." 
He  pressed  him  to  accept  a  bishopric  in  France,  which 
^*Vancis  refused ;  playfully  observing,  that  he  was  already 
4ian>ied  to  a  poor  wife,  and  must  not  forsake  her  for  q 
licher  one :  he  had  taken  the  see  of  Geneva,  distressed 
IS  it  was,  for  better  and  for  worse.  Such  was  the  de- 
lire  of  the  French  king  to  secure  him,  that  he  repeated 
•he  offer  no  less  than  five  times,  and  in  vain  brought 
in  the  influence  of  others  to  induce  Francis  to  accept  it. 
Had  he  done  so,  effects  mi^ht  have  followed  that  are 
little  thought  of.  Henry  J  V.  seiiouslv  entertamed  the 
idea  of  sending  him  into  England,  with  the  view  of  at- 
tempting the  conversion  of  James  I. ;  and  at  a  later 
period,  when  it  was  known  that  that  monarch  had  be- 
stowed high  praise  on  Francis'  treatise  On  the  Love 
of  Ood^  and  wished  he  could  become  acquainted  with 
its  author,  the  holy  prelate  eagerly  cauffht  at  the 
prospect  of  his  conversion,  and  would  probably  have 
taken  the  English  mission,  but  for  the  Buke  of  oavoy^i 
refusal  to  allow  of  his  departure. 

Tlie  influence  which  Francis  exercised  on  French 
society  was,  however,  so  great,  that  his  six-months' 
visit  to  Paris  left  a  greater  impress  on  it  than  other 
men  could  have  given  in  a  lifetime.  He  became  the 
friend  and  adviser  of  the  persons  most  distinguished  at 
ihat  time  for  vrtue  and  religion;  such  as  the  Cardinal 
de  B6ruUo,  founder  of  the  French  oratory,  Madame 
^.Mrie  (iiterwa^'l£>  Siftter  Mary  of  the  Inoamatioii,  w\m 


^:L 


if) 


^^  IT.  FRAirOIS  DB  8AL1S, 

was  beatified  by  Pius  VI.),  the  Duchess  de  Lonf^ttw'diB, 
the  celebrated  Arnaiild,  and  others  of  that  stamp.  It 
was  at  this  period  that  several  of  those  friendships  wert 
formed,  to  which  we  ewe  seme  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  valuable  portions  of  his  correspondftnce ;  such,  for 
examule,  as  that  remarkable  letter  he  addressed,  shortly 
after  nis  return,  to  the  abbess  of  the  Hotel  Dieu,  a  con- 
vent m  which  the  aristocratic  spirit  of  the  ag'e  had 
allowed  distinctions  to  creep  in,  to  the  niin  of  the  mon- 
astic spirit  of  }K)veity ;  and  which  he  points  out  with 
unrivalled  delicacy  and  kindiinss,  and  sug-g-ests  the 
means  for  accoin})lishinp;'  the  diihcult  undeitiikins'  of  a 
retui-n  to  the  ancient  rule.  Jt  will  Ije  perceived  that 
we  have  mentioned  ..  uonjif  his  friends  in  the  religiouf 
world  of  Paris  one  '"•  two  wlio  afterwards  unhappily 
became  entung-led  in  ibe  Jansenist  party.  We  oug'ht, 
however,  to  recollect,  that  it  was  many  years  before 
their  real  character  develop*  d  itself  as  they  now  stand 
in  ecclesiastical  history.  Yet  ilie  instinct  of  Francis^ 
totally  opposed  as  it  always  was  to  the  least  shadow 
of  heresy,  led  him,  lon^  before  that  fatal  spirit  had 
manifested  itself,  to  reject  the  apjilication  of  Ang6Hqi4 
AruHuld  to  be  admitted  into  the  order  of  the  Visitation. 
Nothing:  definite,  beyond  a  certain  pride  that  showed 
itself  in  her  disposition,  seems  to  have  determined  him 
U)  this ;  but  it  s}i<,«ved  in  a  singular  raanner  the  unerring 
judgment  by  which  saints  anticipate  and  repel  evil  b«- 
fore  common  eyes  can  detect  it. 

In  general  society,  too,  a  powerful  effect  was  pitv 
daced  by  this  short  sojourn  ot  a  s  lint  in  a  city  wliich 
was  then,  as  now,  the  voitex  of  dissipation,  as  well  ai 
the  centre  of  religicms  acton.  Many  of  those  immersed 
in  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  dated  fi-om  his  visit 
their  return  to  the  fear  of  God.  With  a  patience  that 
nothing  could  weary  out,  with  a  winning  sweetneM 
that  the  hardest  heart  could  not  resist,  he  would  watch 
hit  opportunity  to  edge  in  a  word  just  at  the  moment 
when  it  would  be  felt;  never  saying  too  much,  or 
hMtrjwg  OB  •onl*  £uter  th«&  Alnughtj  Qod  inVuiM 


V\i    :  I 


Si 


OH.  TI.] 


fT.  FRAHOIf  DB  flLU. 


n 


them  to  go.  In  short,  the  way  in  which  he  tnmed  to 
▼ast  account  a  period  of  time  which,  to  other  men, 
would  have  been  but  a  tedious  parenthesis,  and  accom- 
plished a  great  by-work  at  intervals,  when  the  work 
which  brought  hira  to  Paris  cotild  not  be  proceeded 
witli,  is  one  of  the  most  instructive  }»as8affes  m  his  ufrt. 
However,  his  original  mission  to  Paris  did  receiva  ad 
accomplishment  in  some  degree.  After  much  harasi* 
and  delay,  in  the  coui'se  of  which  Francis  de  Sales  wa» 
falsely  accused  of  sharing  in  a  pohtical  conspiracy 
against  Henry  IV.,  but  out  of  wliich  affair  his  dignity 
and  innocence  oii)y  appeared  with  the  greater  lustre, 
the  French  king  ended  by  charging  the  iiaron  de  Luz, 
governor  of  Burgundy,  to  re-establish  the  exercise  of 
the  Cathohc  religion  throughout  Oex,  wherever  there 
were  a  suiHcient  number  of  Catholics ;  only  taking  care 
to  proceed  gi*adually,  so  as  to  avoid  giving  alarm  to  the 
Protestants.  He  also  formally  took  the  ecclesiastics  of 
those  districts  under  his  special  patronage,  and  invited 
Francis  de  Sales  to  choose  pastors  for  the  re-consti- 
tuted parishes,  whose  pnidcnce  and  charity  would  quap 
lify  them  for  the  difficult  jontion  in  which  they  would 
be  placed.  This  was  not  all  that  had  been  asked :  still 
it  was  something ;  and  Francis  now  decided  to  return 
into  Savoy,  especially  as  the  failing  health  of  the  aged 
Bishop  ot  Gleneva  m  Je  it  necessary  for  him  to  hasten 
his  coiisecration.  The  kind  and  noble  old  man,  who, 
without  any  extraordinary  ability,  was  a  model  of  the 
patriarchal  simpHcity  of  bishops  of  the  apostolic  days, 
died  before  his  saintly  coadjutor  reached  home.  Some 
time  previous  to  his  death,  which  took  place  in  Sep- 
tember 1602,  he  had  the  c^  nsolation  of  celebrating  tat 
jubilee  at  Thonon,  by  whicii  the  luEiory  of  its  convert 
sion  was  concluded  and  wound  up  with  a  sort  of  dcstacr^ 
of  rejoicing  and  thanksgiving.  Hundreds  of  thousancu 
of  pilgrims  of  all  ranks,  m  masses  numbering  one,  twoi 
or  even  four  thousands,  each  preceded  with  orooinz  ami 
banner  as  they  advanced,  poured  fiom  all  the  ootintiy 
Nondy  attkinf  tiM  AlpiM  fiiliyi  mimid  wilk  HhIi 


likiii; 


i 


'm 


i: 

i\. 

'.■  i 

'i   ' 
', 


tu 


■V.  FBAKOIt  91 IAL1 


pfoof  ehiDts.  More  thtn  a  hundred  eonfetson  were 
0ng[aged  continual] j  at  the  tribunal  of  penance;  and 
alto&'ether  62,000  communions  were  made  in  the  church 
of  Ihonon,  where,  but  a  few  years  betbre,  it  needed  the 
heroic  couraj^e  of  a  saint  to  venture  over  from  the  for- 
tress of  Alling-es  to  minister  to  a  handful  of  Catholics, 
who  tremblin«^Iy  kept  ahve  the  lamp  of  faith  amidst  the 
darkness  of  triumphant  heresy.  l)unnjr  this  joyful 
festival,  the  "  Holy  House"  was  canonically  erected  by 
the  bishop,  agreeably  to  the  bulls  granted  oy  the  Pope, 
and  united  in  pen)etuity  to  the  cburch  of  St.  HipjK)ly- 
tus,  under  the  title  of  Our  Lady  of  Compassion,  under 
whose  invocation  he  also  placed  the  high  altar.  After 
the  ceremony,  he  caused  to  be  inscribed,  in  letters  of 
gold,  on  the  vaultinc^  of  the  church,  those  words  which 
on  no  occasion  could  more  appropriately  havo  been 
uttered :  Oaiuie,  Maria  viraOf  cunctas  htereset  sola 
interemuiti  in  uniuerso  mnniio.  Could  a  happier  and 
holier  termination  be  imagined  for  the  lonr  toils  with 
which  thia  aged  prelate,  white  with  yean,  iiad  eant^ 
hii  tfferlaftiag  orowm  f 


11^ 


Ki' 


;/ 


.yi^,- 


i 


«■    fa,J  MP .  VmA«0n  BB  lAUB. 


CHAPTER  vn. 

ffSAMOn  DB  8ALK8  AM  BISHOP  OV  OBHBTA. 

Ill  roini  iinf^  homewards,  Francis  de  Sales  took  th« 
Pays  de  Gex  in  his  w^y,  where  he  re-estabHshed  five 
parishes ;  one  of  them  the  town  of  Oex  itself,  where  he 
placed  as  pastor  Iiis  cousin,  Louis  de  Sales,  who  under- 
took ohe  office  without  salary.  He  then  retii'ed  to  <ihe 
castk  of  Sales,  to  make  a  twenty-days*  retreat  pre- 
viously to  receiving"  consecration.  In  this  retreat  he 
placecf  himself  under  the  direction  of  one  of  the  Jesuits 
from  Tlionon,  Father  Forrier ;  he  made  a  general  con- 
fession, and,  with  much  fasting"  and  prayer,  drew  up  t 
rule  of  life  for  conducting  himself  in  the  episcopal  office. 
This  document,  which  enters  into  the  minutest  details, 
J  still  extant;  and  is  silike  interesting,  both  as  tlux)W- 
mg  mto  strong  relief  his  personal  character  and  habits, 
And  as  a  beautiful  conception  of  the  example  which  a 
Mshop  ought  to  exhibit  to  his  flock.  He  first  regulates 
iBrtemals,  such  as  his  dress  and  household  arrange- 
ments: as  to  the  former,  he  resolves  to  wear  no  habits 
made  of  silk,  or  any  more  costly  material  than  he  had 
been  accustomed  to,  but  would  have  them  neat  and 
irell-fittinff ;  he  would  never  appear  in  publis  without 
rochet  aiid  mantle,  and  would  always  wear  the  beretta 
whether  in  public  or  private ;  he  excludes  several  ele- 
rances  made  use  of  m  dress  by  high  ecclesiastics  of 
ttie  day,  and  his  only  ornaments  are  the  chaplet  sus- 
pendea  at  his  girdle,  which  latter  he  allows  to  oe  made 
of  silk,  and  the  pastoral  ring,  which  marked  the  indis- 
soluble union  ot  the  holy  pastor  to  his  church ;  he  re- 
solves that  his  tonsure  snail  always  be  in  a  state  to  b* 
extremely  noticeable:  his  beard  round,  not  pointed, 
and  without  moustaones  orw  the  upper  lip.  As  to  lubi 
hflwsthoidi  lit  iMolyti  to  hki%  oo  wmam  «r  nqpvAi 


r 

I£i 

! 

'  1 

,1 
1 

^!; 

! 

! 

I 

1 

1 

If;* 


i^ 


'k    'J. 

fir 


il 


ill 


'  i 


!i 


r« 


•V.  nuiroit  vi  uu 


Mmmts :  hii  hoosehold  shall  consist  of  tiro  flee1flrf> 
astics,  one  for  the  management  of  affairSi  and  the  oth^ 
to  assist  in  the  Divine  Oifice;  they  must  be  plainly 
habited  in  the  Roman  dress,  or  in  that  of  the  pnests  oi 
the  seminary  of  Milan,  being  the  least  ex})en8ive.    The 
remainder  of  the  establishment  comprises  a  secretary, 
two  valets,  a  cook  and  kitchen-boy,  and  a  lackey^ 
whose  livery  is  to  be  tawny,  with  violet  borders.   None 
of  them  are  to  wear  feathers,  swords,  long  hair  as 
moustaches,  or  gay  colours, — the  u&uu!  vanities  of  the 
rufBing  serving-men  of  the  time,  such  as  would  certainly 
have  round  no  harbour  in  the  house  of  the  Bishop  of 
Geneva.    They  were  to  confess  and  commumcate  once 
a  month,  hear  Mass  every  day,  and  the  Divine  Office  09 
days  of  obh^tion ;  their  hour  for  rising  was  to  be  five 
o'clock,  theu*  bed-time  ten;  previous  to  which  they 
were  to  attend  the  Utanies,  to  oe  read  by  the  Bishop: 
▼is.  on  Sunday,  that  of  the  Name  of  Jesus ;  on  Moof 
day,  of  the  Saints;  on  Tuesday,  of  the  Angels:  o| 
'Wednesday,  of  St  Peter  the  Apostle,  patron  or  the 
ehurch  of  Geneva ;  on  Thursday,  of  the  Blessed  Saon^ 
uec^;  on  Friday,  of  our  Lords  Passion;  and  on  S^ 
tnrday,  of  the  Blessed  Virrin.     He  is  particular  m 
eiactmg  CTeat  courtesy  to  be  shown  by  his  servante 
towards  all,  especially  priests,  whether  of  the  inferior 
class  or  not.    fiveiy  chamber  was  to  have  an  oratory, 
a  holy-water  font,  some  devout  picture,  and  an  Agmu 
Dei;  two  only  were  to  be  carpeted,  one  for  strangen^ 
the  other  a  reception-room.    His  table  was  to  be  fru- 
gal, but  neat  iund  decent ;  the  priests  were  to  take  it  in 
turns  to  say  grace;  and  som.  [)ook  of  devotion  wai  to 
be  read  till  dmner  was  half  over,  after  which  convera^ 
tion  was  to  proceed.    The  dinner-hour  was  to  be  ten; 
that  of  supper,  six.    Alms  were  to  be  publicly  giren 
on  certain  days,  both  to  the  poor,  ana  to  religious 
oruerv  like  the  Capuchins  and  the  Poor  Clares,  and  to 
the  hospital    He  lays  stress  on  publicity,  for  the  sako 
of  example.    Special  and  extraordinary  alms  were  to 
W  ■dmmifrawri  as  <<  tho  nnotian"— tho  gnat  inpwlid 


TII.1 


•T.  FmAvcif  am  iali 


m 
to 


by  his  oonMeration — nhoald  rankest    Then  fuHowi  • 
Ust  of  the  days  on  wUich  the  fiishop  resolvje  to  aasift 
at  the  Divine  Offices  in  his  cathedral,  and  of  Tarioiu 
eonfrutemities  at  «viiose  reli^ous  exercises  he  would  be 
present  as  ofter  as  possible.    I'hen  come  the  regfulft- 
tions  which  he  lays  down  for  his  conduct  internally. 
As  to  study,  he  would  take  care  to  be  able  to  learn 
fomethin^  every  day  of  a  proHtahle  kind  and  suitable 
to  his  profession.    To  this  pui'pose  he  would  generally 
devote  the  time  between  seven  and  nine  o'clock  in  the 
inomm(2^;  ()esides  which  he  would  have  a  book  of  devo- 
tinn  read  for  half  an  hour  after  supper,  which  miflrhi 
answer  partly  for  study  and  partly  for  meditation.    He 
would  meditate  for  an  hour  every  momingf.    Then  fdi* 
low  resolutions  about  the  presence  of  God,  and  about 
ejaculatory  prayers  (to  which,  by  the  way,  he  attached 
rreat  importance,  as  an  excellent  means  of  makinff  up 
for  lost  time,  if  any  thing  hindered  the  usual  medit** 
tions).     He  goes  on  to  fix  his  hours  for  saying  the 
Divine  Office :  he  would  say  Mass  at  nine  o'clock  daily; 
hear  confessions  every  two  or  three  days,  and  occasion- 
ally himself  go  to  confession  publicl^r  in  the  church,  by 
way  of  example ;  he  would  fast,  besides  the  days  com- 
manded by  the  Church,  every  Friday  and  Saturday^ 
and  on  all  vigils  of  the  feasts  of  Our  Lady,    Everr 
year  he  would  make  a  retreat  of  eight  days,  in  whicK 
ne  would  review  his  progress,  confess  his  o£fences,  con- 
fer with  his  confessor  on  his  difficulties,  make  many 
prayers,  especially  mental,  offer  and  cause  to  be  offered 
many  Masses  to  obtain  from  Almighty  G«d  the  gracei 
he  required,  nd  renew  all  the  good  purposes  and  de- 
signs with  which  Almighty  God  inspired  him.     The 
time  he  thought  best  for  this  retreat  was  the  camiyai; 
not  only  to  avoid  beholding  the  license  to  which  the 
neople  gave  way  at  that  season,  but,  like  our  Lord  and 
His  holy  precursor,  to  emerge  from  the  desot  to 
pi'eaching  and  good  works :  but  if  there  were  hopee  of 
withdrawing  the  people  from  their  dissipation,  then  hi 
would  take  loiiii  ok  ^  woeki  between  EfUlm  lad 


m   ■': 


1  ^^^'11 ' 

w 


•:  y^ 


:>A 


^   ' 


79 


Wl.  nUNOIf  Dl  tALl 


Pentecost  fbr  the  retreat,  to  hare  the  advantage  ci> 
the  ^^race  of  those  holy  feasts,  and  because  affairs  were 
then  less  pressing'.  Such  was  his  rule  of  life,  which 
was  signea  by  his  director,  Father  John  Forrier.  Bui 
although  he  made  out  this  exact  distribution  of  time, 
as  an  arrangement  to  which  he  always  aimed  at  con* 
forming  himself^  still  he  did  not  allow  it  to  entangle 
his  conscience,  ov  .interfere  with  the  service  of  his  flock. 
He  was  too  wise  a  man  not  tc  know  that  '*  the  torrents 
of  business,"  as  he  calls  them  in  his  letters,  by  which 
a  bishop  is  overwhelmed,  must  often  sweep  away  the 
best-devised  regulation  of  hours ;  and  that,  on  the  other 
hand,  nothing  will  be  well  done  unless  there  is  at  least 
a  constant  eirort  to  adhere  to  rule.  Dy  this  means  ha 
kept  clear  both  of  scru])ulosity  and  disorder. 

His  consecration  took  place  on  December  8, 1603, 
the  feast  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  at  the  narish 
church  of  Thonon,  one  of  the  noblest  of  the  lorashipt 
belonging  to  the  house  of  Sales.  A  vast  concourse  ot 
the  most  distinguished  peo))Ie  from  every  pai't  of  Savoy 
were  present  at  this  joyful  ceremonial.  Tlie  mother  ot 
the  Saint  had  taken  care  to  have  this  church  magnifi- 
cently adorned ;  and  she  too  had  prepared  by  a  reti'eat 
for  this  great  day,  expecting  for  herself  an  overflow  of 
gracoL ,  when  so  much  would  be  bestowed  on  the  child 
oi  benediction  whom  she  had  offered  to  our  Lord  before 
he  was  bom.  The  chief  consecrating  prelate  was  Ves- 
pasian Orimaldi,  formerly  Archbishop  of  Vienna;  but 
who  for  many  years  had  led  a  retired  and  charitable 
life  at  Evian,  on  the  borders  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva. 
The  character  of  the  ceremonial  was  felt  by  all  to  be 
pervaded  by  a  supernatural  sweetness.  The  countenance 
of  Francis  de  Sales  af)p6ared  radiant  like  an  angel's ; 
and  he  afterwards  declared  that  he  had  beheld  our 
Blessed  Lady  and  the  holy  apostles  Peter  and  Paul 
assisting  him;  and  that  at  each  stt^p  of  the  ceremony,— 
the  imposition  of  hanos,  the  unction,  the  conferring  of 
the  mitre,  the  gloves,  the  ring,  and  the  cross, — he  law 
fUmAj  tad  divine;!?  the  Blind  Tnaitr  workuif  !■ 


ii 


be 


CS.  TII.J  IT.  FBAHOIt  SI  tALM.  /? 

his  toul  the  effeotA  symbolised  by  those  ceremoniefc 
When  the  oonsecration  was  over,  he  returned  to  the 
nstle  of  Sales,  where  he  spent  a  few  days  more  m 
retreat;  and  on  Dec.  14th  he  made  his  solemji  entiy 
into  his  episcopal  city  of  Anneoy,  where  he  was  reoeiyed 
by  the  authonties  and  the  whole  population  with  great 
rejoicin|rs. 

He  had  now  entered  on  the  career  which  made  him 
what  he  is  in  the  history  of  the  Churchy  and  previously 
to  which,  notwithstancung  the  f^eat  actions  he  had 
achieved,  and  the  extensive  influence  he  had  acquired, 
the  purpose  for  which  such  graces  had  been  lavished 
upon  him  would  not  have  been  fulfilled.    The  rule  of 
life,  of  which  we  have  p^ven  an  abstract,  was  carried 
out  by  him  with  that  ming-led  good  sense  and  gentle- 
ness which  governed  all  his  proceedings.     He  lived  at 
Annecy  in  a  hired  house,  pre/ening  to  do  so  fwa  mo- 
tives of  humilitv,  ratlier  than  to  purchase  one  for  him- 
telf.    Aftervv  ..i-as,  however,  the  President  Favre,  cm 
leaving  that  city,  presented  him  with  the  mansion  he 
had  himself  lived  in.    Every  tiling  in  his  establishment 
was  simple,  but  still  elegant;  and,  considering  the  vei^ 
small  revenues  he  had,  which  did  not  amount  to  more 
than  3680  fr.  a  year  (not  equal  to  150/.  of  our  money ), 
his  ap|)ointments  were  even  magnificent.   In  this  respect 
he  was  the  greatest  contrast  to  St.  Charles  BoiTomeo, 
whom  he  reverenced  so  much,  and  who,  with  a  vast  in- 
come, lived  in  the  utmost  external  as  well  as  internal 
austerity.   However,  although  Francis  de  Sales  thought 
it  right  to  adopt  a  certain  degree  of  dignity  in  his 
household  economy,  he  kept  for  himself  a  little  dark 
and  poorly-fumiished  apartment,  which  he  playfully 
callea  the  room  of  ''  I*  rancis,"  the  others  being  the 
rooms  of  "  the  bishop."  The  house  was  the  very  abode 
of  calmness  and  peace :  it  united  the  stillness  and  holi- 
ness of  the  monastery  with  the  air  of  homeliness  that 
became  the  palace  of  the  bishop.     He  goveiiied  hii 
household  with  that  astonishing  sweetness  with  which 
at  did  eTaij  thing,  and  of  which  h»  had  ipant  ouibj 


M,i':^.i 


M 


m 


W  tr.  FmAVon  bb  tAiiik 

vwn  !b  the  patiflnt  aoqniaitioii.  There  «f};^)  beantifbl 
miUneee  of  it  at  regards  thii  part  of  his  eoauuot;  such 
•I  his  Idndlj  allowing  his  old  prejeptor,  the  iVbb^ 
Dtege,  who  uved  in  his  house,  to  reprove  him,  as  if  he 
were  still  his  pupil.  He  secured,  however,  as  exact  ao 
obeervance  or  his  rules  as  could  possibly  have  been 
obtained  bj  the  method  of  severity.  Female  servaiats 
he  would  not  permit  in  his  household,  nor  indeed  any 
females  to  enter  it,  except  in  the  ^Ilery  and  recention- 
room :  when  urged  to  relax  this  rule,  at  least  so  far  ai 
to  allow  some  aged  and  respectable  woman  to  superin- 
tend the  linen,  ne  replied,  that  he  would  not  permit 
even  his  own  mother  to  live  in  his  house;  for  tnough 
■he  was  his  mother,  all  the  women  who  would  be  certaia 
to  come  to  see  her  were  not. 

The  first  business  which  Francis  took  in  hand  after 
he  was  settled  at  Annecy,  was  to  establish  a  confra- 
ternity of  Christian  Doctnne,  and  to  make  catechetici^ 
instruction  his  strongest  point.  He  opened  it  with 
•olemii;  H:c^h  Mass  in  the  church  of  St  Dominic,  and 
tesLtd  fh'n  classes  himself  every  Sunday.  A  more  in* 
ittra^'uiig  fight  there  could  not  be  than  to  behold  hin^ 
feated  m  fi^nt  of  the  altar,  teaching  the  little  ones,— 
the  girls  on  one  side,  and  the  boys  on  the  other.  Ha 
took  the  g^reatest  pains  with  it,  making  Bellarmine's 
latechism  his  basis,  and  working  it  in  every  possible 
ray  with  the  most  familiar  explanations,  repeating 
3wr  and  oTor  again  what  he  had  said,  till  he  was  quite 
ifttisfied  the  children  understood  it  He  encouraged 
them  with  prizes,  sucb  $>s  medals,  rosaries,  and  prayer- 
books;  and  very  seldom  used  reproofs.  The  instructioa 
ended  with  8in{^ng  hynms  in  French,  several  of  which, 
•ays  our  biographer,  **  were  of  his  own  composition." 
8t  Francis,  ooweyer:  says,  in  the  preface  to  nis  TVm- 
iue  on  the  Love  of  Ood,  in  speaking  of  Despores' 
metrical  Torsion  of  the  Psalms,  that  he  himself  **  1  ad 
never  so  much  as  thought  of  this  style  of  writing.** 
He  ma;|r  not,  however,  have  considered  the  hynms  m 
had  wnttn  iut  ehiUrao  worth  mantioning  ai  an  €■ 


) 


«.  fIL] 


•T.  wmAwon  Da  malwl 


7» 


aeption  to  thii.  The  catechetical  inttnutioiui  beeaiiM 
▼ery  popular  in  Annecr,  and  ^ruwn-up  people  resorted 
to  thorn  in  such  numbers,  that  he  was  obliged  firat  to 
open  the  side-chapels  of  the  church  of  St.  Dominic,  and 
afterwards  two  other  churches,  to  accommodate  addi- 
tional classes.  Twice  a  year  he  made  a  festival  for  th« 
children,  and  went  thror  -h  the  city  with  them  procei* 
donally,  sinking  lita  The  influence  his  kmdnest 

gained  over  toem  t'  that  he  never  came  forth 

without  the  children  ut  from  every  nook  and 

eomer  of  the  streets  tc  iu«.  u.  >  blessing  or  kiss  his  robe. 
He  was  followed  by  troo^^i  of  them,  so  that  his  friendi 
complained  of  it,  as  the  i  -iciples  did  to  our  Lord;  and 
they  received  from  the  Luiy  bishop  a  similar  answer: 
'*  Suffer  them  to  come,"  ho  said ;  ''  they  are  my  litUo 
^ple."  He  caused  the  p  nests  to  eive  catecoetical 
Jistructions  every  Sunday  tnroughout  nis  diocese;  and 
exhorted  such  priests  as  were  without  benefices  to  de- 
^te  themselves  to  this  duty,  giving  them  letters  signed 
jy  himself  to  authorise  them  to  catechise  with  permii- 
Bon  of  the  jparish-priests. 

He  took  immense  pains  to  secure  good  priests  for 
kia  parishes ;  and  would  fill  up  no  vacancies  except  l^ 
a  etneurtus,  or  examination,  conducted  by  a  council  of 
his  best  and  most  learned  ecclesiastics.  He  drew  up 
tnr  the  use  of  his  clergy  an  admirable  set  of  instnio- 
dons  on  the  Sacrament  of  Penance,  entitled  Avertisse- 
menji  aux  Confesseurs,  which  had  also  a  wide  circulation 
n  France  and  Italy;  and  he  put  forth  an  exact  and 
well-devised  ritual  tor  the  use  of  the  diocese  of  Geneva^ 
based  ou  the  Homan  liturgy. 

During  this  first  year  of  his  episcopate,  his  tact  and 
wisdom  were  shown  in  a  wondenul  manner  by  the  re- 
form he  effected  in  the  abbey  of  Sixt,  an  Augiistinian 
monastery  among  the  mountains  of  Faucigny,  which  had 
fallen  into  such  a  state  of  relaxation  ^iiat  tne  abbot  did 
not  even  know  whether  he  was  commendatory  or  titular, 
that  is,  whether  he  was  or  was  not  bound  to  keep  the 
^ilif  olliii  ovdar^  aiidtAii  monks  bad  no  predao  iam  id 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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33  VVtST  MAIN  STMIT 

WIUTII,N.Y.  14SM 

( 71* )  172^503 


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h'W" 


di8  €Bt«t  of  thoir  obligations.  In  spite  of  Btron|g^«ppi 
ntion  on  the  Murt  of  the  abbot,  he  g^radually  and  gentl| 
rs-estahlishea  monaitio  discipline  in  the  communitj^ 
though,  as  we  shall  see,  kreguiaiiij  again  crept  in,  ami 
towwds  the  dose  of  ms  lira  he  was  obliged  to  renew 
his  exertions  to  oomiilete  this  «form. 

On  Oct  2d,  1600,  he  opened  his  first  diocesan  synody 
at  which  he  establislied  a  yariety  of  excellent  rtdes  for 
the  ffOTemment  of  the  diocese;  one  of  the  most  important 
of  wnich  was,  to  divide  it  into  twenty  districts,  odleG 
iungiUanees.  Over  each  of  these  he  placed  one  of  the 
most  experienced  of  the  parish-priests,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  visit  all  the  parishes  of  tne  surveillance  once  in 
fix  months;  to  hoL  a  meeting  of  all  the  parish-priests 
twice  a  year;  and  to  give  a  half-yearly  report  to  the 
bishop  or  the  exact  skate  of  e  ery  courch,  every  parishu 
•ad  of  the  conduct  of  each  parisn-priest  The  result  m 
this  and  of  the  other  statutes  he  issued  was,  that  he 
acquired  the  most  perfect  knowledge  of  his  widely-ex- 
tended diooescL  and  brought  its  aoninistration  to  av 
extraordinary  oegree  of  perfection.  It  will  be  interesting 
here  to  mention  the  sources  from  which  he  majr  be  sup- 
posed to  have  derived  his  views  of  the  duties  of  a  bishop. 
Having  occasion,  in  1603,  to  give  his  advice  to  a  newly- 
consecrated  bishop,  he  recommends  him  first  of  all,  ror 
his  individual  improvement,  to  study  the  works  of  Gre- 
nada, ''as  his  second  Breviary;''  to  read  them  ''with 
reverence  and  devotion;"  and  to  ruminate  them  chapter 
after  chapter  widi  much  consideration  and  prayer.  Next 
to  Grenada,  he  advises  the  works  of  Stella  and  Arias^ 
the  Confessions  of  St.  Au^tine,  Bellentani,  a  Capuchin 
writer,  Costerus,  the  Spintual  Letters  of  Avila,  and  the 
Epistles  of  St.  Jerome.  In  the  conduct  of  affairs,  he 
recommends  Cardinal  Toilet's  Cases  of  Conscience,  the 
Morals  and  Pastoral  of  St.  Gregory,  the  Epistles  and 
Books  de  ConMderatione  of  St.  uemard ;  the  Stimnltu 
Pattarum  of  Bartholomew  de  Martyribus;  the  Decreet 
tf  the  Church  of  Milan  as  indispensable ;  the  Life  tl 
Ml  GharlM  Bonoineo;  and  abov*  all,  ho  adviiei  him  U 


Hf9  tSmyy^  to  bit  baadi  tha  Coundl  of  Tnat  vod  fm 
f  (Atflehism. 

Throughout  this  period,  ana  indeed  during  all  tot 
oiscopate,  the  affairs  of  Gex  me  him  a  great  deal  ot 
irouhie ;  the  policy  of  Henry  1 V.,  notwithstanding  tha 
bvour  with  which  he  regarded  Francis,  and  the  mo- 
mises  the  holy  Bishop  managed  to  extort  from  nimy 
being  very  much  influenced  by  a  fear  of  offendin^f  hii 
Protestant  subjects  and  the  neighbouring  repubho  ot 
Geneva.  Ilence  it  was  with  much  diificulty  and  bj 
slow  degrees  that  Francis  was  enabled  to  nooBftraflt 
o  MTtain  number  of  parishei  in  that  diitriat 


•T.  f  EAVOIl  DB  lAUii 


OHAPTBB  ym 

rma  or  v&AXcif  di  tAua  to  dmon— hu  DiMonoa  tv  turn 

VAAMCEt  DB  CBAMTAL. 

In  1603,  the  Schevintf  or  magistrates,  of  Dijon  inTiteo 
him  to  preach  the  Lent  ia  that  city ;  an  invitation  whiob 
he  the  rather  accepted,  as  it  gave  him  the  opportunity 
of  adjusting  8{:^e  aifficulties  connected  with  the  Chnroh- 
proi)ert J  in  Gex,  which  Henry  IV.,  forgetting  the  grant 
ne  nad  ahre^dy  made  of  them  for  the  endowment  of  thi 
parishes,  assigned  to  Andr4  Fremiot,  councillor  of  the 
parliament  of  Dijon,  whom  he  appointed  Archbishop 
of  Bourges.  At  Dijon,  as  at  Paris,  the  preaching  of 
Francis  de  Sales  produced  an  impression  une(^ualled  in 
those  times.  The  visit,  however,  led  otherwise  to  re- 
sults which  constitute  it  the  most  important  epoch  oi 
his  life,  and  to  which  we  shall  find  it  necessary  to  devote 
considerable  space  of  this  outline. 
Whilst  he  was  preaching  the  Lent  at  Dijon  in 
1603,  Francis  de  Sales  first  made  the  acquaintanoe  of 
Jane  Frances  de  Chantal,  in  com^  don  with  whom  he 
ifterwards  founded  the  Oitler  of  Visitation,  which 
is  the  most  perfect  reflex  of  his  spiirit;  and  the  history 
of  which,  even  after  his  death,  may  be  said  to  be  a  con- 
tinuation  and  developmer.t  of  his  own.  The  characters 
and  actions  of  the  holy  women  who  fiffure  in  its  early 
history  were  so  completely  formed  hj  the  teaching''  and 
example  of  the  Saint,  that  whoever  wishes  to  understand 
him  must  study  their  biographies,  of  which  there  are 
such  copious  mrterials,  as  much  as  his.  The  smallest 
anet^ote  relating  to  them  throws  liffht  on  Francis; 
for  f;heT  lived  in  nis  atmosphere,  and,  uke  Mary  at  the 
feet  (uf  Jesus,  laid  up  in  tneir  hearts  whatever  he  said. 
He  founded  the  order  in  a  twofold  manner:  first,  hj 
starting  th«  idaa  of  ao  isftitation  so  reqnigita  m  tha 


was  in  iho  Catholio  Clniroh;  and  second]  j,  bj  moulding 
and  direeting  another  mind  of  kindred  heroism  to  oarrj 
out  his  idea.    To  us  it  appears  that  this  circumstance 
throws  his  greatness  into  stronger  relief  than  any  thing 
else  we  have  to  tell  of  him.    We  judge  best  of  the 
power  of  one  mind  bj  obsenring  the  (»dibre  of  othei 
minds  which  it  is  able  to  influence  and  control,    ior 
instance,  in  the  history  of  this  world,  great  as  the  first 
Napoleon  is  if  considered  by  himself,  he  becomes  far 
greater  when  we  consider  that  his  marshals  and  depen- 
dent kines  were  themselves  great  men,  and  ^et  mani- 
pulated Dy  him  as  his  instruments.    In  the  rise  of  the 
Visitation,  we  see  the  wonderful  sight  of  the  gradual 
formation,  and,  so  to  speak,  the  spiritual  education,  e 
one  great  saint,  to  execute  a  work  projected  by  another. 
We  nave  the  whole  process  oompletely  before  us  front 
the  first;  and  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  cast 
is  less  extraordinary  because  a  teminine  mind  might 
easily  be  captivated  and  subdued  by  the  naturally  sup» 
rior  reason  of  a  man.    Jane  Frances  was  one  of  those 
women  of  whom  French  history  affords  so  many  ex- 
amples, who  in  clearness  of  intellect,  strength  of  wOI, 
and  greatness  of  characier,  were  fidly  on  a  level  witn 
the  loftiest  minds  of  the  stronger  sex.    As  far  as  the 
possession  of  these  characteristics  goes,  she  might  have 
ruled  a  kingdom ;  and  her  letters  show  a  grace  and  ao 
elegance,  both  of  thought  and  style,  that  prove  hmr 
powers  needed  only  to  nave  had  a  worldly  instead  oi  a 
spiritual  direction,  to  have  equalled  in  composition  such 
a  writer  as  Madame  de  Sevign^,  who  was  her  grand- 
daughter.   The  Uves  of  these  two  saints  are  so  closely 
associated,  that  it  is  difficult  to  view  them  apart;  and 
from  the  time  they  met  to  the  death  of  Francis,  who- 
ever would  be  the  complete  biographer  of  the  one,  must 
also  record,  almost  equally  at  large,  the  actions  of  the 
other.    Both  of  them  had  precisely  the  same  settled 
object  of  Ufe :  and  the  one  was  far  more  the  product  and 
expression  or  the  mind  of  the  other,  than  the  most  peiw 
M  pietnit  if  the  image  of  thevtiit^iioiil:  ftriatiM 


UMVERSITY  OF  WINDSOR  LIBRARY 


Mil 


♦ 


ir  I 


M 


•T.  FRAHCIt  DB  BAhBB, 


pifltim  the  titist  himself  alone  ttriTes  to  embody  hli 
oooeeptions ;  the  picture  is  inanimate,  and  cannot  oo- 
operate  widb  the  will  of  its  inventor.  But  in  exael 
Droportion  to  the  desire  of  the  holy  prelate  to  train  and 
mshion  the  noble  soul  Almighty  God  intrusted  to  hiii 
oaroy  so  that  she  might  best  fulfil  the  work  for  which 
■he  was  designed,  did  that  soul  of  herself  co-operate 
with  his  purposes,  eagerly  drink  in  the  lessons  of  hia 
wisdom,  and  strive  to  become  the  peifect  copy  of  hii 
saintliness.  But  the  brief  limits  of  the  present  sketch 
will  not  allow  us  to  delay.  We  proceed  to  give  an  out> 
line  of  the  earUer  years  of  Jane  Frances,  and  of  the  ori* 
gin  and  leading  features  of  the  order  of  the  Visitation. 
Jane  Frances  de  Chantal  was  the  daughter  of  B^ 
nigne  Fremiot,  president  of  the  narliament  of  Dijon,  an 
illustrious  member  of  one  of  tne  best  families  of  tfaf 
%ohlesM  de  la  robej  whicli  was  held  in  such  considera* 
tion  in  old  France.  S)ie  was  born  in  1572,  and  at  an 
^ly  age  married  the  Baron  de  Cliantal,  a  nobleman  of 
Burgundy.  Their  mamed  life  affonis  a  beaiitiftil  pio» 
lure  of  domestic  society  among  the  country  noblesse  of 
that  period  in  France.  The  feudfU  manners  are  still 
risible;  but  softened  by  modem  refinement,  and  yet 
more  by  the  gentleness  and  diligence  of  the  true  Catholil 
wife.  Althoiif^h  in  such  high  life,  Madame  de  Chantal 
dressed  v^ry  plainly,  only  in  linen  and  woollen,  except  on 
festivals,  wiien  she  wore  the  more  8])lendid  attii'e  she 
had  brought  with  her  to  her  husband*s  house.  And 
yet,  when  she  wore  nothing  but  camlet  and  serge,  "  it 
was  with  such  neatness,  gmce,  and  pro])riety,  that  she 
looked  a  hundred  times  better  tiian  many  othei's  who 
their  families  to  wear  head-<lresses."     She  rose 


nun 


very  early  in  the  moniing,  and  had  completed  all  her 
househola  armngements  before  her  husband  was  up. 
She  had  the  family  chapel  repaired,  and  Mass  said  in  It 
regularly ;  always  taking  special  care,  if  her  husband 
liad  to  go  out  hunting  early  on  a  summer's  morning, 
to  make  him  and  his  attendants  hear  it  before  starting, 
ttie  deetro jed  an j  bad  booki  aha  found  about  the  hoait; 


«■.  Tin.]       ST.  nuHou  si  ialm.  M 

li«r  tfwn  usual  readinr  was  the  XtvM  0^  the  Samtt,  and 
lomedmes  the  AnnoM  ofFrancef  or  some  other  useful 
history.  Her  charity  to  the  poor  was  unhounded,  and 
down  for  miles  round  the  castle,  especially  durinr  a 
terrihle  famine,  when  she  distributed  food  to  them  daily. 
A  oarrel  of  com  and  a  little  rye,  which  at  one  time  was 
idl  sue  had  left  in  the  granaries,  was  miraculously  mul- 
tiplied for  six  months.  The  fact  was  related  to  her 
biogitipher  by  some  of  the  servants  who  knew  of  it,  and 
also  by  Mad.  de  Chantai  herself,  when  her  nuns  after* 
wardh  entreated  her  to  tell  them  the  whole  story.  She 
alwa^b  ascribed  the  mirncie  to  the  devotion  of  a  holy 
servant  of  hers,  named  Dume  Jeanne,  in  whose  prayers 
■he  placed  great  conHdence.  A  very  pleasing'  instance 
of  that  leuoal  tinrre  to  which  we  referred  above,  occun 
in  the  anecdote  of  her  releasmg,  during  the  night,  pea- 
sants whom  her  husband  had  imprisoned  in  the  damp 
lungeons  of  the  castle,  he,  apparently,  having  what  the 
good  Darun  Bradwardine  called  the  right  of  **  pit  and 
nillows."  Very  early  in  the  mornmg,  before  M.  de 
Ehantal  was  up,  she  would  cause  the  prisoners  to  retire 
to  their  dismal  quni-ters,  and  then  beg  her  husband  to 
dBt  them  oiT,  which  he  generally  did  at  her  gentle  en 
treaties.  She  scarcely  erer  changed  her  servants;  and 
her  house,  pays  the  biogi-apher,  "was  the  abods  of  {)eace, 
of  honour,  of  {loliteness,  of  Christian  piety,  and  of  a  truly 
noble  and  innocent  cheerfulness." 

After  living  thus  happily  for  some  years,  Madame 
de  Ghantal  was  suddenly  bereaved  of  the  husband  she 
loved  so  well.  Tlie  baron  lia{)pened  to  go  out  shooting 
one  morning  with  a  relative  of  his,  M.  d^Alzury;  and 
having  occasion  to  creep  through  some  bushes  in  pui'suit 
of  his  gniiic,  M.  d'Alzury,  at  a  distance,  imagining  it 
was  a  aeer,  drew  his  arquebuss  in  that  direction  ?for 
guns  were  as  yet  rarely  used),  and  M.  de  Chantai  im- 
mediately fell  mortally  wounded.  He  survived  a  few 
days,  and  expired  in  a  most  devout  and  Christian  man- 
Mr,  wholly  forgivmg  the  friend  who  had  unintentionally 
fMMid  hii  dtatiii,  sod  chargipg  bia  widoif  to  tftko  ■§ 


;i' 


f  ;i 


M' 


m  tr.  wuMMcm  m  saum* 

ftopi  tninit  him.  Madame  de  Chantal,  wlw  wai  pah 
lionatuy  attached  to  her  husband,  was  overwhelmed 
with  the  most  agonising  grief,  which  continued  for  a 
loDflr  time.  This  was  an  immense  sacrifice,  and  othei 
trius  were  at  hand.  After  a  short  visit  to  her  father^s 
at  Dijon,  she  and  her  four  children  removed  to  Mon> 
ihelon,  the  seat  of  her  father-in-law,  the  old  Baron  de 
Ohantal.  He  was  seventy-five  years  of  age,  and  of  a 
most  severe  and  repulsive  temper ;  add  to  which,  he 
was  completely  under  the  control  of  an  ill-conditioned 
•ervant,  to  whom  he  had  intrusted  the  whole  manage- 
ment of  his  house  and  affairs  to  such  an  extent,  that 
Madame  de  Ghantal,  admirable  as  were  her  business 
talents  and  skill  in  the  p^vemment  of  a  family,  was  al* 
lowed  no  sort  of  authonty  in  the  place,  not  so  much  al 
to  give  a  drink  to  a  messenger  without  permi^fiion.  lliii 
woman  also  had  five  children,  who  had  the  run  of  the 
house,  and  were  put  on  a  lev^  with  those  of  Madame 
de  Ghantal  She  set  the  mini,  of  the  weak  and  irritable 
old  man  against  his  holy  daughter-in-law ;  and  amongst 
them,  the  latter  led  sucn  a  Hie,  that  her  biographer  culs 
it  a  purgatory  of  seven  years  and  a  half.  Notwithstand- 
ing, she  repaid  good  for  evil,  and  took  the  trouble  to 
teach  the  cnil(h«n  of  the  housekeeper  to  read,  and  even 
sometimes  washed  and  dressed  them  with  her  own 
hands.  She  was,  however,  allowed  to  continue  her  good 
Affioes  to  the  poor ;  and  kept  a  store-room  in  the  house, 
appropriated  to  her  medicines,  ointments,  and  other 
femetues,  so  neatly  arranged,  that  it  became  a  proverb 
throughout  the  country  to  say  of  any  thing  in  partioa- 
brly  good  order,  C^est  pr&pre  et  bim  rangS,  comme  la 
\outique  de  Madame  de  Ckantal. 

A  mind  thus,  like  Madame  de  Chantal's,  corres- 
■onding  with  divine  grace,  could  not  fail  to  be  led  on 
ftuther ;  and  resplendent  as  her  virtues  were,  she  was  as 
jet  only  at  the  commencement  of  her  career.  Yet,  as 
the  glories  of  the  natural  day  are  prefigured  by  the 
•arly  rays  which  gild  the  distant  mountain-snmmitk 
tiMNWMii  IB  hir  mmd  |ifoph«ti«isstiii0ti  which  foratoM 


la 


«■.  Tin.]  ST.  PRANOIS  DB  SALES.  89 

wliftt  was  to  ooms;  and  which  received  jean  after  their 
fhlfihnent  and  completion.     She  was  haunted  with  an 
ardent,  inextinsuishable  longing  to  find  some  wise  di> 
rector  who  could  tell  her  certainly  what  was  the  will  of 
God  with  regard  to  her,  and  whose  counsels  she  might 
follow  with  unhesitating  obedience.    She  had  a  vision  of 
a  very  remarkable  kino,  in  which  it  was  not  only  shown 
to  her  that  her  wish  woiUd  be  accomplished,  but  she  even 
beheld  the  very  person  who  was  destined  to  lead  her 
through  the  difficult  paths  which  she  was  to  traverse. 
One  day,  whilst  riding  in  the  fields,  she  saw  standing 
at  the  root  of  a  hill  a  man  of  amiable  and  august  ap- 
petraaoe,  habited  in  ecclesiastical  dress,  and  holding  a 
Dreviary  in  his  hand.    At  the  same  moment  it  was  re- 
vealed to  her  that  she  now  beheld  the  director  whoit 
God  intended  for  her.    Long  after  this,  on  the  first 
oocasion  when  she  saw  Francis  de  Sales  at  Dijon,  sh| 
recognised  in  him  the  very  features  of  the  person  sha 
had  seen  in  her  vision.    Other  revelations  or  superna- 
tural anticipations  began  to  visit  her.    Thus  it  was 
conveyed  to  her  mind,  that  **  through  the  gate  of  St. 
Claude"  she  was  to  find  peace  and  comfort    We  shall 
see,  as  we  go  on,  what  those  words  meant,  which  she 
knew  not  at  the  time.    Again,  on  another  occasion,  i» 
the  ohapel  of  Bourbilly,  she  s'^\  a  brilliant  army  of  d» 
voat  virgins  and  widows,  and  ^a'l  told  that  of  tuat  hei^ 
venly  company  she  was  to  be  the  mother.    The  first  oi 
these  propnetic  dawnings  of  the  future  was  so  vivid 
that,  tnirty-five  years  after,  she  remembered  it  as  dis^ 
tinctly  as  if  she  even  then  saw  it  with  her  bodily  eyes. 
What  makes  all  of  these  the  more  striking  is,  that  about 
the  same  period  Francis  de  Sales,  with  whom  she  was 
then  quite  unacquainted,  had  revelations  of  an  ana^ 
logons  description,  in  which  he  beheld  in  prophetio 
vision  the  appearance  of  the  holy  foundress,  ana  received 
by  divine  illumination  the  idea  of  the  order  which  he 
originated. 

After  passinff  a  lona  time  in  a  ttate  which  would 
b»f«  bMD  aam  «  hwrniui  aaxktj  and  uoirtainiji  btf 


n  ft.  FBAirOIS  DB  lALlib 

far  thtl  deep  tranqnfllitj  which  erer  reiffni  m  the  li^ 
molt  heart  of  the  saints,  Madiune  de  Cliantal  wai  it 
length  induced  to  place  herself  under  the  direction  oft 
Capuchin  monk,  a  good  and  learned  man,  but  who  proved 
hunself  singulai-ly  wanting  in  that  wisdom  and  discretion 
which  is  requirea  for  the  conduct  of  souls.  He  hena 
by  making  oer  take  four  tows  :  first,  ever  to  obey  him 
implicitly ;  second,  never  to  change  him ;  third,  to  keep 
secret  all  he  *jo\d  her ;  and  fourth,  not  to  confer  about 
her  conscience  with  any  one  but  himself.  His  method 
of  direction  was  equally  ill-advised.  He  burdened  her 
with  all  sorts  of  observances,  particular  devotions,  prayers^ 
fasts,  vigils,  which  kept  her  continually  hampered,  and  de- 
prived bier  of  all  the  liberty  of  spirit  essential  to  advance- 
ment in  the  spiritual  life.  She  had  had  from  the  first  • 
iecret  repugnance  against  taking  him  for  her  directory 
and  his  narrow,  harassing  system,  based  as  it  was  on  • 
nrinciple  which  no  confessor  had  a  right  to  dictate  tc 
nifl  penitent,  kept  her  soul  in  a  state  of  disquiet  which, 
added  to  all  her  other  crosses,  was  indeed  a  Aimaoe  fit 
to  try  the  purest  gold.  These  very  trying  circumstanoea 
lasted  for  about  three  years;  for  Jane  Frances,  with 
that  prudence  which  belongs  to  the  saints,  knew  that 
we  ought  to  be  in  no  hurry  to  change  any  state  in  which 
we  find  ourselves  placed,  and  which  is  not  sinful.  How* 
tver  painful  it  might  be,  she  patiently  endured  it,  till 
•be  was  quite  clear  that  it  was  the  will  of  God  it  should 
be  changed,  and  changed,  as  is  most  usual  wher'^  stefw  are 
taken  agreeably  to  that  will,  not  by  any  one  sudden  and 
violent  act,  but  gradually  and  sweetly ;  one  event  leading 
f^f  and  as  it  were  melting  into  anotoer,  like  the  coluiin 
in  a  beautiful  and  harmonious  landscape,  llie  beginning 
of  her  release  from  this  captivity  was  occasioned  by 
Fraacii  iz  &^1««'  ^mt  to  Dijon  in  1603.  He  was 
preaching  the  Lent  in  the  cathedial  of  that  city,  and 
Madame  de  Chantal  attended  his  sermons.  She  reoogb 
Biied  in  him  the  very  person  whom,  years  befc  re,  she 
liad  seen  in  the  vision  we  have  rehited.  as  the  appointed 
gwdi  w]Mm  AJmif h^  God  mtnded  to  toko  ohaift 


«■•  ▼IIL]  it.  FBAlfOIS  Ol  lAUl.  If 

•f  ber  Mill.  Francis  noticed  her  particniarlj,  u  ilil 
Mt  in  front  of  the  nulpit: — a  lady  of  that  grace  ana 
dig^ty  which,  in  tuose  days,  distingpuished  hur  rank 
from  others  as  much  almost  as  if  they  were  different 
classes  of  the  01*6111100,  and  yet  habited  in  a  widow's 
garb  of  the  humblest  materials.  On  his  return  to  th# 
palace,  he  inquired  of  his  host  who  she  was;  and  the 
Loly  prelate  was  amused  to  find  she  was  the  sister  of  the 
Archuishop  of  Dourgea,  and  the  daughter  of  the  Presi* 
dent  Fremiot,  of  whom  he  asked  tne  question.  He  seema 
at  once  to  have  sinprbul  her  out,  with  that  unerring  eye 
by  which  saints  know  who  are  best  qualified  to  aid  them 
in  carrying  out  their  great  purposes.  On  the  very  first 
occasion  on  which  he  met  her  at  the  archbishop's,  he 
tried  her  spiiit  of  obedience  by  hinting  to  her  to  leave 
iff,  one  after  another,  some  of  those  ornaments  which, 
diough  dressed  in  the  gravest  habit  belonging  to  a  lady 
if  her  rank,  Madame  de  Chantal  still  retained.  She 
^mediately  and  joyfully  complied.  The  entanglement 
of  the  vows  which  her  unwise  director  had  induced  her 
to  take,  checked  the  ardent  wish  she  almort  directly  en* 
^rtained  of  opening  to  this  wise  and  holy  adviser  the 
Itate  of  her  conscience,  and  of  asking  his  heaven-inspired 
lounsels.  Could  any  cross  be  imnrnned  more  painful 
«han  for  a  holy  soul  to  be  in  doubt  of  her  coui'se, — to  see 
before  her,  and  to  recognise,  the  person  who  had  the  clue 
to  all  her  difficulties,  and  yet  to  be  bound  down  and  pri* 
8oned-in  with  a  fourfold  vow  taken  in  obedience  ?  It  might 
hsvw  1)een  thought  that  nothing  could  break  through 
■uch  a  superincumbent  weight  on  the  mind ;  vet,  by 
the  grace  of  Almighty  God,  the  evil  worked  its  own 
remedy.  The  director  hapjiened  to  be  alisent  fi-om  the 
titj;  tliough,  as  if  to  demonstrate  his  unfitness  for  such 
an  office  as  guiding  a  great  soul  in  its  way  to  heaven, 
he  had  left  a  ])erson  in  charge  to  watch  his  penitent,  lest 
■he  should  have  recourse  to  any  one  but  himself.  Ma- 
dame de  Chantal,  however,  being  under  extreme  anzietr 
and  distress,  did  what  the  insf>iration  of  Heaven,  as  weu 
M  that  liberty  which  no  directoi  could  lawfdlj  leetnii^ 


W' 

'I'. 

1     , 

1              .'■■ 
4' 

V 

s'i    ■ 

;}!'* 


M  ft.  FEAVen  DK  lALIt. 

■ttthoriMd  Imt  in  doinr;  ihe  htd  an  iiit«r?i0W  wiU 
ynaOMf  in  which.  Although  hindered  from  fpeaking 
half  what  she  wished  by  the  terrors  of  her  'ow,  she  yet 
to  some  extent  relieved  her  mind,  and  insiai  'j  felt  shi 
had  done  right  by  the  tranquillity  which  came  upon  her 
spirit  from  the  wise  advice  he  gave,  and  fiom  tiiat  at- 
nosphere  of  peace  which  reigned  around  him.  Before 
his  departure  from  Dijon  she  confessed  to  him.  and  re- 
ceived the  holy  communion  at  his  hands.  This  she 
seems  to  have  been  allowed  to  do ;  what  h(  r  director 
had  attempted  to  prevent  was  not  her  occasionally  going 
to  another  confessor, — for  Father  de  Villars,  rector  of  the 
Jesuits  at  Dijon,  was  her  confessor, — but  her  placing  her- 
self  under  any  direction  but  his  own.  The  change  d 
directors  was  not  accomplished  without  a  good  deal  d 
aelay.  No  state,  not  unlawful  in  itself,  ought  to  be 
changed  without  a  great  deal  of  consideration  and  prayer 
Mad.  de  Chantal  knew  this  well,  and  would  doubtlefli 
nave  endured  throughout  her  whole  life  the  martyr- 
iom  of  having  a  director  who  did  not  understand  her, 
if  she  had  known  this  was  the  will  of  God.  Francis, 
moreover,  was  eminently  hostile  to  any  thing  like  hasti 
or  flurnr ;  his  favourite  word  was  peaetentim,  **  by  de- 
grees ;  ''  soon  enough  if  well  enough.*'  His  method 
m  this  case,  accordingly,  was  not  to  make  any  violent 
break  in  the  existing  state  of  things,  but  to  allow  oni 
state  to  merge  into  another,  making  no  visible  altaraticm 
tdl  die  will  of  God  was  completely  ascertained  after  long- 
continued  prayer;  in  which  he  secured,  according  to  ma 
wont,  the  co-operation  of  others. 

On  his  departure  from  Dijon,  Madame  de  Chantal 
remained  in  tranouillity,  abandoning  herself  entirely 
into  God's  hands.  However,  on  Whitsun-eve,  forty  days 
after  he  had  gone,  she  was  suddenly  assailed  by  a  storm 
of  spiritual  anguish,  her  soul  being  divided  between  an 
earnest  longing  to  place  herself  under  the  guidance  of 
Francis,  and  a  scrupulous  fear  of  leaving  her  former 
director.  Father  de  Villars,  whom  she  cons olted,  with 
gntt  dadiian  advised  the  farmer  count.    ^It  ta  tha 


nn.] 


ir.  VKorai  am  fAum 


will  of  Oody**  b«  Mid,  ^  that  too  phos  ymanelf  iiiid« 
Uw  direotion  of  the  Bishop  of  Uenert :  he,  and  not  the 
gnide  jaa  at  preMnt  follow,  is  adapted  for  you ;  he  hai 
m&  spirit  of  uod  and  of  the  Church,  and  Divine  Pro- 
▼idenoe  wills  something  great  trom  you  in  giving  that 
terrestrial  seraph  for  your  conductor.  Woros  like  these 
showed  what  an  extraordinary  impression  the  holy  Bishop 
produced  on  those  who  saw  liim.  Father  de  Villan, 
years  after,  in  writing  to  Francis  de  Sales,  said  that 
God  had  given  him  **  so  strong  an  impulse  to  assure 
Madame  w  Chantal  that  it  was  by  the  channel  of  hia 
lips  that  Heaven  willed  to  fpve  her  the  waters  of  tba 
Samaritaness,  that  had  the  angels  come  to  dissuade  him 
from  this,  he  did  not  think  they  could  bave  succeeded, 
because  the  impression  came  from  the  i^ing  of  the  an- 
gels." However,  she  remained  under  her  first  director 
ror  a  few  months,  and  even,  under  obedience,  renewed 
the  vow  he  indiscreetly  exacted  from  her.  These  trials 
It  length  came  to  an  end.  On  St.  Bartholomew's  day, 
1604,  the  two  saints  met  at  St.  Claude, — thus  fulfilling 
the  vision  in  which  it  had  been  revealed  to  Mad.  de  Chan* 
lal,  that  by  **  the  gate  of  St.  Claude"  she  was  to  find 
/est:  though  both  were  brought  thither  for  other  appa- 
rently accidental  occasions.  Madame  de  Chantal  with 
sreat  simplicity  and  candour  revealed  her  whole  soul  to 
Francis,  lie  hstened  attentively,  made  no  answer  what- 
ever, and  thus  they  parted.  Early  next  morning  he 
called  upon  her,  and  said  that,  after  having  spent  the 
whole  mght  in  prayer  and  reflection,  he  had  concluded 
it  was  Ood's  will  he  should  undertake  her  direction,  that 
her  four  vows  were  of  no  avail  but  to  trouble  her  con- 
science, and  that  his  long  delay  was  only  caused  by  hit 
wish  to  know  thoroughly  the  will  of  God,  and  to  nave 
nothing  done  in  the  affair  except  by  His  hand.  "  1 
heard  him,"  said  Mad.  de  Chantal  in  after-times  to  hm 
nuns,  "as  if  a  voice  ftt)m  heaven  had  spoken  to  m0| 
he  seemed  to  be  in  a  ravishment,  so  recollected  was  h&i 
and  he  kept  seeking  for  his  words  one  after  another,  ■■ 
haling  a  oifficnlty  in  ipeaking."    8ha  thm  madt  hm 


i^ll 


JM 


'^   > 


•i  tr.  FBAVon  in  tAiBi 

mntral  wnfeRdoii;  and  a  vow  of  obedience  to  him }  and 
Ee  wrote  her  ort  a  method  for  passing  the  day  devoutly^ 
and  ehangfwl  her  manner  of  meditation,  xrhlcn  had  been 
harassing  and  difficult  **  Fram  tliis  day  (it  was  the 
festival  of  St.  Louis,  August  C5)  she  began  to  enter  into 
the  interior  repose  of  the  childi'en  of  God,  into  a  great 
interior  liberty,  and  was  attracted  to  a  sort  of  prayer, 
altogether  cordial  and  intimate,  which  leads  to  a  holy 
and  respectM  familiarity  of  soul  with  the  heavenly 
Sponsor. 

The  letters  which  Francis  wrote  to  Mad.  de  Chaa- 
tal,  and  which  from  this  penod  form  so  large  a  part 
of  his  correspondence,  are,  as  we  need  hai*dly  tell  our 
readers,  a  r(>))eitory  of  asceticiU  and  practical  wisdom, 
such  as  it  would  be  hardly  ])ossible  to  Hnd  eoualled  in 
the  whole  body  of  ecclesiastical  literature.  The  rulei 
of  life  which  he  projioses  to  her,  and  from  time  to  time 
modifies  as  she  needs  it,  the  continual  application  and 
development  of  two  or  three  grand  maxims,  the  pru* 
dence  with  which  difficulties  and  temptations  are  con- 
stontly  met,  and  the  rich  abundance  with  wliich  traits 
of  personal  character  come  out,  and  the  great  and  Uttle 
trials  of  domestic  life  in  the  CnthoUc  circles  which  sur- 
rounded the  two  Saints  (for,  as  we  shall  see,  their  fami« 
lies  became  connected), — all  give  a  wondeiiid  interest 
to  these  beautiful  old  French  letters. 

In  May  1605,  Mad.  de  Chantal  paid  a  visit  of  foni 
days  at  the  cliAteau  of  Sales,  where  she  again  had  an 
opjx)rtunity  of  confening  with  Francis  on  the  state  of 
her  soul.  On  this,  as  on  tlio  former  occasion,  he  drew 
out  for  her  a  set  of  niles  regulating  the  whole  method 
of  her  life,  marking  out  her  devotions,  fixing  her  ho'irs, 
and  sugg^ting  the  princiitles  on  which  she  should  en- 
eounter  temptations.  Wuen  she  returned  home,  she 
almost  immediately  commenced  the  system  he  had  pre* 
scribed  to  her.  We  here  set  down  briefly  her  order  of 
life,  as  she  copied  with  the  greatest  exactness  the  idet 
of  perfection  which  he  suggested  to  her,  as  a  lady  itiU 
UfiBg  ill  tha  world,  and  having  all  thaotrns  cf  a  nmilj 


OB.  Till.]       fT.  nuHcn  vm  uLmk  M 

upon  her.    She  rose  eTenr  day  at  firey  and  earliear  in 
summer,  lighted  her  oaiuue  woen  it  was  needed,  and 
went  to  her  oratory,  where  she  spent  one  hour  in  mental 
prayer,  and  said  her  daily  prayers,  after  which  she  com- 
pleted her  toilette  without  attendance,  and  without  a 
fire,  no  matter  how  cold  it  might  be.    She  then  heard 
her  children  m,j  their  prayers,  and  afterwards  went  to 
bid  good  morning  to  lier  cross-grained  old  father-in 
law,  and  assisted  aim  to  dress,  if  lie  was  in  the  humour 
to  allow  her.    She  heard  Mass  every  day,  and  on  Sa* 
turdays  had  a  special  Mass  said,  wmch,  with  Francis' 
pemussion,  she  uad  vowed  to  the  Blessed  Vii'gin.    A 
regular  part  of  her  daily  occupation  was  to  teach  hei 
ciuldren,  and  those  of  the  housekeeper,  from  whom  sh4 
had  to  suffer  so  much,  their  lessons  and  catecliism.    Tf> 
spiritual  reading  for  herself  she  devoted  half-an-hoi4 
a  day.    Each  dav  she  made  a  spiritual  retreat  into  one 
of  the  Wounds  of^our  Lord,  re-entering  into  it  especially 
in  a  short  recollection  before  sup))er-time.    She  then 
«aid  her  chaplet,  which,  under  a  vow,  she  persevered  in 
throughout  her  hfe.    In  the  evening,  after  supfter,  H 
thera  was  no  company,  and  the  old  baron  allowed  her, 
she  assembled  the  household,  and  read  some  profitable 
instruction.    She  ended  the  day  by  saying  with  her 
children  and  attendantis  the  Litany  of  our  Lady,  and  a 
J)e  prujumli*  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  her  deceased 
husband.    Then  came  the  examen  of  conscience,  and 
the  recommendation  to  the  angel-guardian ;  after  which 
she  gave  holy  water  and  the  blessing  to  her  childran. 
She  still  remained  at  prayer  for  about  half-an-hour, 
concluding  all  with  reading  the  subject  for  the  next 
day's  meditation.    Her  favourite  devotion  was  to  visit 
in  spirit  each  portion  of  the  Chiuch,  congiatulating 
that  which  is  triumphant  in  heaven ;  supplicating  for 
tiie  mihtant  Chui'ch  on  eaith;  and  applying  for  the 
Church  suffering  in  purgatory  her  sutli'ages,  prayers^ 
iod  indulgences.    The  above-mentioned  practice  of  re* 
tirinff  each  day  into  one  of  the  Five  Blessed  Wounds,  to 
whim  the  addM  the  scan  left  by  tht  Crown  of  Thonuk 


m  i 


V 

f'J 


I  '.'■ 


S' 


a 


m   :  .i 


!*' 


H  ST   PBAirOll  DB  tAUNi 

WM  a  source  of  speoial  grace  to  her.  ^It  me  her  a 
spiritual  view  of  God  in  all  thrngs,  and  a  hoW  indifPer- 
ence,  so  as  in  all  diversities  of  creatures,  anairsy  and 
events,  to  find  her  one  only  Good."  Her  daily  reading 
at  this  time  was  the  Exposition  of  the  Gospels  hj  the 
Carthusian  Ludolfiis,  called  'Hhe  great  Vita  Cknstif* 
she  also  was  paiticularly  fond  of  the  metrical  version 
of  the  Psalms  by  Philippe  Desportes,  abbot  of  Tiron, 
li-om  which  Francis  de  Sales  continually  quotes  in  hit 
T^reatise  on  the  Lmse  of  Ood» 

She  early  began  to  entertain  an  ardent  desnw  to 
leave  the  world,  and  addict  herself  to  some  religious  in- 
stitute. That  of  Mount  Garmel  sug^^sted  itself;  and 
she  often  had  ladies  who  wished  to  jom  that  order  stay* 
ing  in  her  house.  The  holy  director,  however,  follow* 
ing  his  usual  method,  by  no  means  encouraged  a  hasty 
decision.  He  implored  the  Divine  light  at  the  holy 
Sacrifice,  and  had  prayers  offered  up  by  devout  personsi 
All  he  could  say  at  first  was,  that  one  day  or  other  sha 
should  quit  every  thin^ ;  but  whether  to  ent  r  religion  or 
not,  he  left  undetermmed.  He  said  that  he  had  never 
placed  his  own  inclination  in  a  state  of  such  indifference 
ts  in  that  question ;  but,  so  far,  ^'  the  '  yes*  could  not 
fix  itself  in  his  heart,  and  the  *  no'  was  present  there 
with  much  firmness."  This  state  of  uncertainty  went 
on  till  the  Whitsuntide  of  1607,  m^en  Madame  de 
Chantal  went  to  Annecy  to  advise  with  him  on  her  spi- 
ritual affairs.  After  keeping  her  some  days  in  douDt, 
he  tried  her  obedience  by  proposing,  one  arter  another, 
several  religious  orders  and  institutes  for  her  to  enter 
upon ;  she  numbly  accepted  each  apparent  chai^  of 
purpose  he  expressiBd ;  and  at  last,  when  he  had  satisfied 
nimself  of  her  submissiveness  to  the  will  of  God,  ha 
unfolded  to  her  very  fully  the  idea  of  the  Order  anar- 
wards  called  by  the  name  of  the  Visitation,  which  ha 
had  matured  in  his  mind,  and  in  the  foundation  oi 
wluch  he  knew  Almighty  God  intended  bar  to  co- 
operate with  him. 

It  will  be  sufiidant  in  this  plaoa  to  state  bnrfiy  tka 


1.  Tin.] 


IT.  VB41ICI1  OB  •AIM. 


(ttindptl  oljeots  of  this  Order,  which  we  duJI  tfter 
wards  develope  when  we  have  gone  through  the  moif 
interesting  points  connected  with  the  history  of  iti 
foundation.  Francis  intended  it  to  supply  wnat  had 
hitherto  beea  a  deficiency  in  the  conventual  institu- 
tions. All  that  had  hitherto  existed  were  such  as 
the  delicate  and  wealthy  could  with  difficult/  enter 
there  were  severe  fasts  or  vigils,  or  other  corporal  aus- 
terities, which  no  person  of  a  feeble  constitution  could 
undertake  without  danger.  Thus  a  whole  class  of  the 
most  devout  and  lowly-minded  women  were  excluded 
from  all  hope  of  the  religious  state,  for  which  other- 
wise they  might  be  exceUently  qualified.  Francis  de 
Sales,  therefore,  projected  sucu  cui  Institution  as  would 
welcome  the  infirm,  the  sickly,  or  the  aged,  as  well  as 
the  robust ;  which  would  make  up,  by  works  of  cha- 
rity and  the  exercise  of  prayer,  for  those  kinds  of  self- 
aenial  which  the  weakness  of  their  health  would  not 
permit.  Madame  de  Chantal  joyfully  acquiesced  in 
the  proposition,  and  felt  that  unmistaKable  serenity  of 
soul  which  accompanies  any  great  step  in  life  taken  in 
oerfect  accordance  with  the  Divine  will.  '^  I  suddenly 
telt,**  she  said,  ^*  a  great  interior  correspondence,  wim 
a  sweet  satisfaction  and  light,  which  assured  me  that 
this  was  the  will  of  God ;  which  I  had  never  felt  as  to 
other  propositions,  although  my  whole  soul  was  entirely 
submittea  to  them."  There  were,  however,  two  grand 
difficulties  in  the  design, — one,  the  fiunily  ties  with 
wliich  Madame  de  Chantal  was  entangled.  She  was  a 
widow,  with  four  children,  still  quite  young:  and  there 
were  also  the  two  old  men,  her  father  ana  father-in- 
law  :  the  former  with  his  whole  soul  wrapped  up  in  his 
admirable  daughter ;  the  latter  in  the  helplessness  and 
fieevishness  of  iiis  decline,  requiting,  perhaps  more  than 
ever,  her  tender  and  all-forgiving  care.  And  next, 
there  was  the  necessity  of  establisning  the  first  house 
of  the  new  institute  at  Annecy,  where  it  would  be 
under  the  eye  of  its  holy  founaer.  To  go  to  laeh  a 
diflMM  Ml  ]i»  eild  profiuwd  hooie^  would  mmi  It 


y  i 


I 'I, 


90  IT.  fBAlieit  91  lAUik 

tn  Madame  de  Cluiital*t  relatiTflf  a  tbing  Mh 
to  her  family  and  eztrayagant  in  itself. 

What  seemed  at  first  a  grreat  misfortune,  bron^ht 
about  the  solution  to  these  difficulties.  After  a  vudt 
to  Annecy  in  1607,  Madame  de  Ghantal  brought  awaj 
with  her  Mademoiselle  Jeanne,  the  youngest  sister  of 
our  Saint,  to  stay  ?rith  her  in  Burgundy.  This  young 
lady  was  only  fifteen,  and  exceeding'fy  accomplished 
ana  interesting.  Francis  had  baptisea  ner  himself,  and 
loyed  her  with  the  affection  of  a  father  as  well  as  a 
brother.  He  reckoned  much  on  what  she  was  likely  to 
do  for  the  glory  of  God.  However,  she  had  not  been 
long  at  Madame  de  Chantal's  before  she  was  carried  ofl 
by  a  fever.  The  letter  Francis  wrote  to  the  saintly 
baroness  on  receiving  this  sad  news  affords  so  -touching 
and  beautiful  a  picture  of  Catholic  familv-hfe,  that  wo 
must  translate  a  part  of  it:  **  What,  my  clear  daughter,** 
he  asks,  **  is  it  not  reasonable  that  the  most  holy  wiU  of 
God  be  fiilfilled,  as  well  in  things  that  we  chensh  as  in 
others  ?  But  I  must  needs  hasten  to  tell  you  that  my 
good  mother  has  drunk  this  chahce  with  an  altogether 
Christian  constancy;  and  her  virtue,  of  which  I  had 
always  had  a  good  opinion,  has  far  exceeded  my  estima- 
tion. On  Sunday  morning  she  sent  to  fetch  my  brother 
the  canon ;  and  because  she  had  observed  him  very  sad, 
and  all  the  other  brothers  also,  on  the  evening  before^ 
the  began  to  say  to  him :  *  I  dreamed  all  the  night  thi^ 
mj  daughter  Jeanne  was  dead ;  tell  me,  I  pray  yon,  it 
it  not  true  V  My  brother,  who  waited  for  my  arrival  to 
tell  it  to  her,  seeing  this  was  a  good  openmg  to  offer 
her  the  cross,  *  Mother,'  says  he,  *  it  is  true,'  and  did 
not  say  any  thing  more;  for  he  had  not  the  power  of 
laying  another  word.  And,  *  God's  will  be  done,'  sayi 
my  good  mother ;  and  she  wept  abundantly  for  a  spaoe  of 
time,  and  then  (filing  her  servant  Mark :  *  I  will  riae^' 
■ays  she,  '  to  go  ana  pray  God  in  the  chapel  for  my 
poor  daughter.  And  immediately  she  did  as  she  had 
laid :  not  a  single  word  of  impatieiice,  nor  a  single  dia- 
^nieted  twinkling  of  the  eye,  a  thooaand  UaiaingB  npoa 


:!ti 


Ofl   Till.]  IT.  FRANCIS  DB  8ALB 


07 


Gon,  and  a  thousand  resiiipiationa  to  1  mi»i11.  Nerar 
did  I  see  a  more  tituiqnil  sorrow ;  it  was  a  wonder  to  see 
10  many  tears;  but  all  this  by  simple  tender  gushes  of 
the  hearty  without  any  sort  ot  violence ;  yet  for  all  that 
it  was  her  dear  child.  Well  now,  this  mother  of  minSi 
ouffht  I  not  to  love  her  well  V*  Another  letter  brings  out 
no  less  beautihilly  his  own  feelingps  on  this  bereavement? 
**  You  may  thinic/'  he  says,  **  my  dear  daughter,  how 
heartily  I  loved  this  UtUe  gi*!.  I  had  begotten  her  for 
her  Saviour,  for  I  had  baptised  her  with  my  own  hand, 
above  fourteen  years  ago ;  she  was  the  first  creature  on 
whom  I  exercised  my  priestly  office.  I  was  her  spiritual 
fiither;  and  I  promisea  myself  much  to  make  something 
^food  of  her  one  day;  and  what  rendered  her  very  dear  to 
mo  (but  I  speak  the  truth)  was  that  she  was  yours.  But 
ne^eitheless,  my  dear  daughter,  in  the  midst  of  my  heart 
•f  flesh,  which  has  had  so  many  throbbings  on  accotmt  of 
this  death,  I  perceive  very  sensibly  a  certain  sweet  tran- 
quility, and  a  certain  sweet  repose  of  my  spirit  in  Divina 
rrovidence,  which  difiuses  on  my  soul  a  great  content- 
ment in  these  sorrows."  Then  he  goes  on  to  give  direc- 
tions for  his  sister's  fimeral ;  he  sen(h  Madame  ae  Chantal 
•n  escutcheon  of  his  sister's  armorial  bearings,  "  to  pleasa 
her/'  and  agrees  that  services  be  celebrated  at  the  place 
where  her  body  reposed;  '^  but  without  great  pomp,  only 
wiiat  Christian  custom  required;"  for  he  lovea  simplicity 
in  death  as  well  as  in  Ufe.  **  We  will  pray  God  for  her 
MRil;  and  we  gladly  render  her  her  Uttle  honours."  Ma- 
dame de  Chantal,  as  might  be  supposed,  took  this  death 
deeply  to  heart;  indeed  such  had  been  her  anguish  during 
the  illness  of  poor  Jeanne,  that  she  prayed  Grod  rather  to 
taka  herself,  or  one  of  her  own  children,  than  her.  When 
ill  was  over,  she  made  a  vow  to  give  to  the  house  of  Sales 
one  of  her  daughters,  in  the  place  of  this  one  who  had 
died  whilst  under  her  roof.  Whilst  she  made  thin  vow 
a  sense  of  consolation  came  over  her  mind,  and  she  per 
oeived  that  it  was  the  means  Providence  had  chosen  to 
bar  ittinment  to  Anneey.    Her  daughter  waa 


08 


0T.  PRANOIfc  DB  SALBl. 


Ui 


for  jvang,  and  iha  would  Iietb  to  aooompaii j  her  thm 
ana  woula  thus  become  disconnected  from  the  ties  of 
home.  It  took  much  trouble  to  reconcile  her  relatlTea 
to  this  match ;  the  venerable  President  Fremiot  being 
gpreatly  attached  to  his  grand-daughter,  and  unwilling  to 
part  with  her  from  his  house,  although  he  reverenced  the 
name  of  Francis  de  Sales,  and  valued  the  nobility  of  hii 
illustrious  house.  On  the  other  side,  overtures  had,  some 
time  before,  been  made  to  Madame  de  Ghantal  by  the 
good  Madame  de  Boky,  who  had  set  her  heart  on  her 
3on,  the  Baron  de  Thorens,  marrying  a  daughter  of 
Madame  de  Chantal.  The  youthful  pair  were  in  fact 
iffianced  in  the  autumn  of  1608;  ana  a  twelvemonUi 
after,  on  Oct.  16, 1609,  they  were  married  at  Monthelon, 
the  residence  of  the  old  Baron  de  Ghantal.  Madame 
de  Boisv  died  before  this  union,  to  which  she  had  looked 
forwara  with  all  the  maternal  pleasure  of  her  simple 
and  loving  heart,  had  taken  place.  She  died  rather 
mddenly  of  a  paralytic  seizure,  but  retained  her  senses 
idll  nearly  the  last.  Her  dying  moments  were  quite  in 
keeping  with  the  tranquil  beauty  which  rei^s  through* 
out  the  whole  history  of  the  Saint  and  his  household. 
She  held  the  cross  in  ner  trembling  hands,  and  kissed  it 
even  when  her  eyesight  was  gone.  When  Francis  ar- 
rived at  the  bedside  of  his  expiring  mother,  she  knew 
him;  and  although  oppressed  with  blindness  and  le- 
thaigy,  she  caressed  him  much,  and  said,  **  This  is  my 
son  and  my  father, — this  one.''  Charles  Augustus 
de  Sales,  in  his  exquisite  life  of  the  Saint,  describes  the 
last  scene  with  singular  sweetness  of  expression.  **  At 
last,'*  says  he,  **  on  the  first  day  of  the  month  of  Marohu 
she  yielded  up  to  God  her  beautiful  soul,  gently  and 
tranquilly,  ana  with  a  greater  constancy  and  wmitj 
than  perhaps  she  had  ever  had,  remaining  one  of  the 
finest  corpses  it  was  possible  to  biehold,  and  exhaling  no 
evil  odour.  The  great  prelate  had  then  courage,  after 
having  given  her  his  holy  benediction,  to  close  her  lips 
aod  eyes,  and  to  |;ive  her  the  last  kiss  of  peace.    After 


«■.  Till.]  n.  FRANOIf  DB  MAhW^  M 

wUeh  his  heart  swelled  very  much,  and  he  wept  owtr 
that  mother  more  than  he  had  ever  done  since  he  was  • 
ehuvhman ;  but  it  was  without  spiritual  bitterness,  af 
he  afterwards  protested.  He  rendered  her  the  funeral 
honours  and  duties,  and  her  body  was  placed  to  rest  in 
the  tomb  of  Sales  in  the  church  of  Thorens." 

As  we  are  writing  the  life  of  Francis  de  Saleiy 
and  not  that  of  Mde.  oe  Chantal,  constantly  as  the  inoi* 
dents  of  both  are  interwoven  with  each,  we  must  neoea> 
sarily  pass  over  much  of  the  latter  on  which  it  woul^ 
be  pleasing  to  dwell.  In  this  place  we  need  only  add, 
that  the  history  of  Mde.  de  Chantal's  external  life,  whilst 
she  remained  in  the  world,  is  a  perfect  study  for  those 
of  her  class, — ladies,  namely,  whose  resources  and  leisure 
enable  them  to  devote  much  of  their  time  to  the  reliel 
of  the  poor.  The  whole  method  she  adopted,  the  sweet- 
ness and  kindness  she  displayed  in  visiting  them,  at> 
wendinff  those  afflicted  with  soras  so  terrible  that  even  to 
read  of  them  would  sicken  the  delicacy  of  many  a  sensi- 
tive person,  cleaning  and  mendings  their  clothes,  washinff 
and  laying  out  the  dead, — all  was  done  well.  And  au 
this  time  she  was  still  afflicted  by  the  great  domestic 
eross  of  the  tyrannical  and  upstart  housekeeper  whom 
we  have  mentioned.  One  anecdote  on  this  subject  if 
in  the  very  spirit  of  the  teaching  of  Francis  de  Sales. 
In  the  hearing  of  Mde.  de  Chantel  some  one  said  that 
when  the  old  baron  was  dead,  they  would  cut  off  this 
woman's  nose,  and  drag  her  into  the  ditch.  ^^Noj* 
said  the  noble-minded  lady,  **  I  will  be  her  safe- 
guard:  if  God  makes  use  of  ner  to  impose  a  cross  upon 
me,  why  should  I  wish  her  illT'  One  of  her  methodi 
in  visiting  the  sick  was  to  imagine  she  was  on  pilgrim- 
age. She  would  say  to  her  attendants :  **  We  are  ^ing 
to  make  a  little  pilgrimage ;  we  are  going  to  visit  our 
Lord  on  ^e  Mount  of  Cuvary,  in  the  Garaen  of  Olives, 
or  at  the  Sepulchre.''  Whilst  thus  devoted  to  the  life 
of  perfection,  she  took  excellent  oare  of  her  domesti* 
affiun;  and  managed  the  intereats  and  fortunes  of  hei 
Mdiwijut  aawaUyMd  6r  bfttv,  than  if  iho  hM 


i 


100  ST.  FlUWOIt  Dl  tALMi 

bfion  dATotfld  to  the  world.  Slie  also  did  not  negpleol 
the  usiinl  elegant  tasks  of  devout  ladies  of  her  rank, 
such  ns  Mfiii'kintj;'  omaiiumts  for  the  altars  of  the  neigph- 
bouring  churches.  On  one  occasion  she  spun  some 
Mrr3  to  make  a  vestment  for  Francis  de  Sales,  and 
haa  it  dved  violet.  The  manner,  in  which  he  acknow 
ledppes  tfiis  g^ft,  is  a  remarkable  example  of  tlie  way  in 
which  he  worked  up  the  commonest  incidents  into  devo- 
tional lessons.  She  had  asked  him  to  g^ve  the  value  of 
it  to  the  poor;  he  waives  this  as  a  soi*t  of  scrupulosity : 
•he  was  quite  ng^ht  inworking*  for  hei*selfor  her  friendi 
at  leisure  hours,  but  she  must  not  feel  herself  under  an 
obliofation  to  give  an  equivalent  sum  to  the  poor;  it 
would  interfere  with  that  holy  libei'ty  which  must  pre- 
vail every  where.  Then,  if  he  were  to  pay  the  value  of 
it  to  the  poor,  he  asks,  with  elegit  raillery,  how  wat 
he  to  estimate  the  value?  If  he  was  to  give  a  sum 
equal  to  what  he  thought  the  value,  it  would  ruin  him. 
Tne  vestment  had  given  him  a  thousand  glad  thoughts; 
and  one  of  them  was  when  he  wore  it  in  a  procession 
in  the  Octave  of  Corpus  Christi.  "  Do  you  see/'  he 
says,  ''  I  adored  Him  whom  I  was  bearing ;  and  it 
came  into  my  heart  that  He  was  the  true  Lamb  of 
Oody  who  taheth  away  the  sin  of  the  world,  0  Hofy 
and  Divme  Lamb, — ^tms  is  what  I  said, — ^how  wretched 
am  I  without  Thee!  Alas,  I  am  not  clad,  save  in  Thy 
wool,  which  covers  my  misery  before  the  face  of  Thy 
Father.  Upon  this  thought,  behold  it  is  Isaias  who 
saith  that  our  Lord,  in  His  Passion,  was  dumb  at  a 
lamb  before  his  shearer.  And  what  is  that  divin« 
fleece,  but  the  merit,  but  the  example,  but  the  myf> 
teries  of  the  Cross  ?  It  seems  to  me,  then,  that  the 
Cross  is  the  fair  distaff  of  the  holy  Spouse  of  the  Can- 
ticlesi  of  that  devout  Sunamite;  the  wool  of  the  Incarnate 
Lamb  is  preciously  fastened  to  it, — that  merit,  that  ex- 
ample, that  mystery."  Then  he  advises  her  to  spin 
eontinually  on  this  distaff  the  threads  of  holy  asputip 
tions,  drawing  from  the  spindle  of  her  heart  that  whits 
tad  dfllioate  wool ;  and  tne  robes  made  from  it  woaU 


i 


OH.  Till.]  ST.  FRANCIS  DB  SALBS. 


101 


defend  her  from  concision  in  the  day  of  her  death.  **  I 
wished  you  thereupon  bhjssing>s  a  thousand-fold ;  aad 
tliat,  at  the  ^I'eut  day  of  judgment,  we  mifi^ht  all  find 
ourselves  well-clad,  some  in  the  e[)isco|)al  raiment 
others  in  widowhood,  or  in  the  wedded  state;  others  in 
the  f^arb  of  Capuchins;  others  Jesuits;  others  vine* 
dressers ;  but  every  habit  made  of  the  same  white  and 
red  wool,  which  are  the  coloura  of  the  Spouse." 

On  the  day  after  the  mai-riag-e  at  Monthelon,  Fran- 
cis de  Sales,  the  President  Fremiot,  and  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Dourc'es,  held  a  soil  of  council  to  decide  upon 
the  vocation  ol  Madame  de  Ghantol.  When  invited  by 
them  to  explain  her  views,  she  showed  with  such  clear- 
ness the  good  order  in  which  she  would  leave  her  affairs 
on  quitting  the  world,  and  the  excellent  arrangements 
she  had  made  for  the  education  of  her  children,  who 
might  even  be  brought  up  under  her  own  eye  in  th« 
event  of  the  institution  being  established  at  AnnecVy 
that,  deeply  as  the  sacrifice  was  felt  by  her  father,  £• 
could  not  but  recognise  the  finger  of  God  in  the  design 
which  she  was  undertaking.  He  gave  his  consent ;  ani 
after  a  few  hours'  delay,  sue  finaUy  parted  with  her  re^ 
lations.  The  separation  was  unusually  agonising,  in 
Droportion  to  the  extraordinary  love  ana  reverence  with 
which  she  had  inspired  them  all;  but  having  heroically 
overcome  these  last  trials,  she  proceeded  to  Annecj, 
where,  on  Trinity  Sunday,  June  6th,  which  was  also 
the  Feast  of  St.  Claude,  the  new  institute,  called  at 
first  that  of  the  Ladies  of  St.  Mary,  and  afterwards  the 
Order  of  the  Visitation  of  our  Lady  the  most  glorious 
Virgin  Mary,  was  solemnly  opened  by  its  holy  patri- 
arch. There  were  at  first  three  Sisters,  Maclame  de 
Chantal  herself,  Charlotte  de  BrtSchard,  a  young  lady 
of  noble  birth  from  the  province  of  Nivemois,  whose 
delicate  health  had  obliged  her  to  leave  the  order  of 
Mount  Carmel,  and  Marie- Jacqueline  Favre,  a  daughter 
of  the  President  Favre,  Francis's  ancient  friend.  To 
them  was  added  a  lay-sister,  as  touriiref  Anne  Jacqne- 
liiia  Cofte^  •  humble  and  good  son],  who  had  baoi  • 


Fi  I  < 


lOQ 


ST.  FRANCIS  DB  iALMi 


servant  in  a  hotel  in  Geneva,  having  taken  that  plaes 
from  a  wish  to  serve  the  eoclesiastios  and  other  Gatho> 
lies  who  had  occasion  to  rasort  to  that  heretical  dtr. 
We  shall  attempt  in  the  following  chapter  to  giv«  (£• 
leader  a  more  detailed  dettoription  of  tM  minMit  tad 
'-^-ofthtMfrOrdar. 


i  .  H 


m^ 


T  I 


ifr'  '' 


if    ! 


Ik'U  I'- 


It  ; 


..•trr,^ 


OB.U.J 


IT.  FBANOlt  DB  tALIl. 


l$$ 


km 

t 


OHAPTBB  a. 

OMUimww  <Nr  tarn  obdia  ov  nn  mautnui. 

Tub  ite  of  the  Order  of  the  Visitation  Moms  to  ham 
originated  pertly  in  the  oiroumstanoes  of  the  timei^ 
partly  from  the  character  of  Francis  himself.  A  great 
change  had  indeed  come  oyer  the  world  since  the 
days  when  8t  Antony  assembled  his  thousands  of  her- 
Juts  in  the  deserts  of  Egypt,  or  8t  Bernard  retired 
from  the  feudal  oisde  to  tne  unreclaimed  solitudes  of 
Giteauz.  The  itemness  of  the  feudal  world  required 
a  corresponding  sternness  in  the  discipline  of  that  lift 
which  tnoee  amied  at  who  left  it,  and  the  saint  of  the 
middle  ages  bore  a  oertain  analogy  to  the  mail-obMl 
knight  But  a  reyalution  in  the  whole  eyitem  of 
the  monastic  life  of  the  middle  agee  had  been  broogfat 
about  by  St  Ignatius.  It  oame  upon  the  world  like  ai 
original  and  fwtile  discoyery,  iJiat  the  mortifioatiaii  of 
the  will  may  be  toomed  to  as  great  and  eyen  mote 
eztensiye  account  than  the  mortification  of  the  body. 
Very  few  oonstitntkns  indeed  oould  sustain  the  tm* 
mendous  diMsipline  of  the  Gisteraian  fi»t;  and  in  our 
own  times  we  belieye  it  has  been  ascertuned  that  out 
of  a  oommunity  consisting  of  twenty  or  thirty,  then 
are  scarce  six  who  are  not  obliged  to  ayail  theiiisely«i 
of  dispensationa.  No  dispensation  is  required  in  a  sje> 
tem  which  is  based  on  the  mortification  of  the  wilL  In 
such  a  system  the  most  delicate  can  be  as  perfect  as  the 
strongest ;  corporeal  mortifications  musty  moreoyer,  in 
eyery  case  arrive  at  a  speedy  limit)  whilst  the  occasions 
of  eyery  moment  of  conscious  existence  mighty  if  nk 

auired,  oe  turned  into  mortifications  of  the  wilL  There 
I  also  another  reason  why,  in  modem  timaiy  the  latter, 
as  a  spuritual  method,  is  superior  to  the  former.  Asoul- 
tiyitioii  adyanoes,  temptstiooi  become  much  Urn  afanple^ 
or  bekag  BMM  to  tfai  iDtalkft  or  to  the  ImiiI  tbiB  te 


I 


ii .- 


!|-:t(^ 


104  IT.  FmAirett  bi  tiiM. 

Jm  leniet.    Rude  and  M^aga  aaturet  wnUmpUd  It 
irealth  and  indulufenco,  wbiUt  th«  mora  refined  t^rgaaT* 
latiun  of  a  highly •«)diicHted  niind  is  more  apt  u>  girc 
way  to  pride,  to  a  refined  melanciioly,  or  to  a  uioihi^ 
pro|)en8ity  to  look  in  u|ion  itmit'  and  analyse  its  own 
action ;  in  a  word,  the  ancient  or  simple  age  is  tempted 
by  that  which  is  without,  the  cultivated,  or  modem  age, 
by  that  which  is  within.    The  8]H)ciul  remedy  for  tiia 
foimer  would  consist  in  external  suffering,  in  stern  fasts, 
in  lonff  vigils,  in  severe  [lenances ;  the  remedy  for  th« 
latter  m  the  ))er})etual  subjection  of  the  individual  to  tho 
will  of  a  superior.    As  soon  as  the  idea  we  have  9i- 
tempted  to  aevelop  had  been  enunciated  to  the  world, 
it  or  course  more  or  less  affected  the  rules  of  every  new 
religious  institute;  and  we  shall  be  enabled  to  traca 
its  presence,  to  a  very  considerable  extent,  in  the  consti- 
tutions of  the  Visitation.    The  kindly  nature  of  Franoia 
de  Sales,  and  that  special  tenderness  with  which  he  ra* 
ffarded  the  infirm  or  the  afflicted;  and  again,  that  pra> 
nrence  which  he  seems  always  to  have  had  for  what  ha 
edls  the  little  virtves  wliich  grow  at  the  foot  of  tha 
eroes,  were  another  iniportant  element  of  the  institution 
which  he  founded.    Iiis  system  as  a  confessor  had  grs- 
iually  formed  many  characters  in  the  high  socie^  of 
France  and  Savoy,  who  required  the  formation  of  a  nair 
order  to  give  them  scope  and  operation.    They  were 
ladies,  who  to  the  courtly  graces  of  an  earlier  affe  added 
that  intellectual  culture  wiiich  reached  its  higuest  per- 
fection in  tha  reign  of  Louis  XI V.    It  was  evident  that 
for  oharicters  like  these  the  simplicity  of  the  IVancia- 
ean  or  «Jie  Dominican  rule  required  ront>HeriibIe  mod^ 
fications;  the  modi  of  life  which,  *imd«r  n'r"  duecti  >i 
Jane  Frances  de  Chantal  had  a;  >}*'.. 1  Iij  tha  world, 
must  of  itself  have  suggested  to  him  the  idea  of  utilising 
it,  of  turning  it  to  account  in  snch  a  manner  as  to  act,  not 
only  on  her  immediate  circle,  but  on  society  generally ; 
■na,  as  wa  have  seen,  she  was  surrounded  by  many 
fner^,  who  emulated  her  virtues,  and  ware  ready  to 
iiiUdirwkre  aha  lad.  Aa  mayparliapabaaiudofcfMy 


y 


"ft 


•  I 


J 


tr   FmAVOIt  BlIlIBl. 


rreftt  m^Tetnei.t.  ifep  miprht  be  compared  to  the  hiftuti- 
lul  creHt  (if  th^  wave ;  liif^lit'r,  iiidt^Hl,  and  mora  reKplen* 
dont  than  tlie  other  drops  wliicli  tbnii4Mi  it,  Hut  of  the 
■uine  ninreniil.     Just  uk  in  Sjmin,  before  tUe  Society  of 
Je^us  was  instituted,  Avihi  hmi  conceivHl  <a  very  siinilAi 
'dea,  which  he  heroicidly  sacrihced  when  he  behMhl  it 
mirrored  in  the  more  ca|M(ciuussoulof(^tttiu9, Bother* 
were  in  France  holy  and  humble  -^oul^,  which  wer»  in- 
aeed  akin  to  this  ^reut  fuundiess,  and  which,  had  i«he 
been  absent,  one  mi^-ht  imii<rinc  would  have  bei^n  erpiaJ 
to  a  similar  work ;  such  was  Mudame  d' Auxerre,  of  whom 
we  know  little,  excejit  that  iK'0))le  stud  she  was  in  Lyoni 
what  Madame  de  Chantal  was  in  Annecy ;  such  were 
many  of  the  Hrst  Sisters  of  the  Visitation,  Mademoiselle 
Favre,  Mademoiselle  de  Br^churd,  tn^e  venerable  Marie 
A.im^  de  Blonay,  and  othei's  o'  the  same  community^ 
irhose  lives  constitute  one  of  the  richest  and  most  beauo- 
tul  chapters  in  that  most  interesting;  study — the  Gatbolie 
memoirs  of  France.     But  with  al  i  this  abundant  mate* 
jial  before  him,  there  was  one  dil&culty,  which  on  the 
old  system  could  not  have  been  met :  all  of  these  ladiee 
iiad  Deen  delicately  reared  in  the  highest  French  re- 
finement of  the  day ;  very  many  of  them  were  feeble  ia 
health  and  constitution ;  if,  therefore,  the  religious  life 
Iras  to  be  precisely  that  of  the  daughters  of  St.  Catne- 
rine  or  St.  Clare,  all  this  material  would  seem  to  have 
been,  pot  indeed  thrown  away,  but  planted  in  a  soil  where 
it  could  not  fructify  and  spread  abroad  its  branchei. 
Here  then  the  great  discovery  made  by  St.  Ignatiuf 
leemed  precisely  what  was  needed  to  meet  the  emer- 

Smcj ;  it  was  nossible  to  devise  a  mode  of  life  such  m 
oee  most  tenaerly  brought  up  and  most  infirm  ia 
health  could  undertake,  the  perfection  of  which  should 
nevertheless  not  fall  short  ot  that  of  the  most  austere 
orders  of  earlier  times.  We  now  come  to  a  fourth 
element  in  the  constitution  Francis  had  projected,--* 
this  was  a  certain  reminiscence  of  the  primitive  life  of 
Jie  early  Christians.  In  the  early  CLristian  Chuidl 
arders  of  womeD  were  not  cloistered;  thoii|^ 


106 


■T.  PBANOIf  DB  lAUtt. 


iv 


Bet  apart  to  Qodj  and  living  a  life  of  l^e  strictest  •Wu 
sion,  they  still  remained  under  the  roof  of  the  family 
The  Sisters  of  the  Visitation,  thouc-h  strictly  nuns,  and 
living  in  a  convent,  were  also,  in  tueir  original  system, 
not  cloistered;  that  is  to  say,  a  certain  section  of  the 
religious  went  out,  as  the  Sisters  of  Mercy  and  Cha* 
rity  do  now,  to  visit  the  sick  and  destitute.  Another 
point  of  difference  was,  that  originally  they  took  onlj 
what  are  called  the  simple,  and  not  the  solemn  vows 
Under  the  limple  vows,  they  had  the  power  of  return- 
ing to  the  world,  if  dispensed,  for  sufficient  reasons,  bv 
their  lawful  superior;  under  the  solemn  vows  thit 
liberty  would  oi  course  be  impossible.  The  primitiv« 
idea  of  the  Visitation  was  thus  only  a  step  beyond  that 
of  the  third  orders ;  the  third  orders  gave  a  rule,  but 
often  left  their  members  in  the  world ;  the  Visitation  r»< 
moved  them  from  the  world,  but  did  not  establish  tha' 
abrupt  separation  from  it  which  characterises  other  reii> 
gious  institutes.  In  this  respect  it  bore  an  obvioq 
resemblance  to  the  institute  of  the  Oratory;  for  which 
as  we  have  already  seen,  Francis  had  a  great  admi* 
ration,  and  the  spirit  of  which  may  be  traced  in  man} 
details  of  the  constitutions  which  he  gave  to  this  order. 
This  orig^al  idea,  however,  in  a  few  years  unde^ 
went  a  great  and  vital  alteration.  The  Archbishop  ol 
Lyons,  Denis  de  Marquemont,  when  a  house  of  the  in* 
stitute  was  being  founded  in  the  capital  city  of  his  dio- 
cese,  urged  very  strongly  on  Francis  the  prudence  oi 
bringing  the  Visitation  into  the  category  of  the  regu- 
lar monastic  orders,  that  is,  of  establishing  the  cloister, 
and  substituting  the  solemn  for  the  simple  vows.  His 
view  was,  that  however  useful  the  comparatively  lax 
^stem  might  be,  so  long  as  the  early  fervour  of  a 
newly-established  order  remained,  it  would  be  certain 
to  grow  into  abuses  as  soon  as  that  fervour  began  to 
diminish.  It  is  evident  that  this  suggestion  tend  3d 
completely  to  change  the  features  of  the  structure  a« 
it  came  irom  Francis's  hand.  His  object  was  of  ont 
kud,  the  purely  monastic  system  was  of  anc^^her;  Urn 


6H.  IZ.] 


■T.  FBANOU  DB  tALBS. 


107 


latter  mig^bt  be  i^Acb  greater,  but  it  was  not  inreoisely 
the  same;  for  example,  the  establishment  of  the  en- 
closure would  entu'ely  destroy  what  had  at  first  been 
an  almost  necessary  element  in  Francis's  idea.  He  had 
wished  to  combine  the  two  examples  of  Martha  and 
Mary ;  so  strongly  was  he  impressed  with  this  view,  that 
he  even  wished  to  place  his  order  by  name  under  the 
patronage  of  the  former  saint.  If  the  enclosure  was 
established,  the  poor  could  no  longer  be  visited,  and  the 
institute  could  no  longer  act  directly  upon  society ;  it 
would  close  one  important  sphere  of  spiritual  action, 
whieh  was,  perhaps,  what  constituted  the  principal 
charm  of  the  order  to  minds  like  those  of  Madame  de 
Chantal  and  her  earliest  companions.  But  never  waa 
there  a  Saint  who  was  more  ready  to  defer  to  others  in 
all  matters  not  involving  right  and  wrong  than  Francis 
de  Sales.  His  view  remained  the  same ;  but  he  at  onot 
conceded  the  alteration  demanded  by  the  Archbishop. 
The  institute  accordingly  was  erected  into  a  regular  mo- 
nastic order,  with  enclosure  and  under  the  solemn  vows, 
m  the  year  1 618,  in  virtue  of  a  bull  from  Pope  Paul  V. 
The  constitutions  ^ven  to  the  new  order  were  thosr 
of  St.  Augustine,  which  were  adapted  to  the  existing 
a^,  and  penetrated  with  what  we  may  call  the  Sale- 
sian  spirit.  In  the  body  of  regulations  called  the 
Directory  is  contained  perhaps  as  copious  and  sug- 
(restive  a  collection  of  nints  for  the  development  of 
me  religious  life  as  can  be  found  in  any  portion  of 
the  literature  of  the  Church.  We  see  in  it  at  once  the 
legislative  spirit  and  personal  influence  combined.  The 
writer  speaks  indeed  with  the  voice  of  law ;  but  speaks 
like  the  tenderest  and  kindest  father,  entreating  rather 
than  commanaing,  and  setting  forth  the  duties  of  the 
Teligious  life  rather  by  nainting  the  ideal  of  the  perfect 
teligious  than  bv  sternly  dictating:  "This  you  shall 
|o;  this  you  shaU  not  do."  Never  did  the  founder  of  a 
religious  order  bequeath  to  his  children  a.  moif  perfect 
tnuueript  of  his  own  mindt  a  more  perpetual  mmaarf 


1i 


l^-f 


108  fT.  VRANC18  OB  tALBS. 

of  his  presence,  or  so  easy  a  means  of  enabling^  eaob 
member  of  bis  institute  to  carry  out,  both  in  the  spirit 
and  the  letter,  tlie  gi'eat  though  simple  principle  which 
it  was  his  mission  to  convey.    To  give  a  com[ilete  ana- 
lysis of  the  Constitutions  and  Directory  of  our  Saint 
would  far  exceed  the  Umits  of  the  present  sketch.     We 
shall,  however,  endeavour  to  select  those  points  which 
leem  most  cliaracteiistic  of  the  Sairt  personally,  and 
most  distinctly  to  mark  off  his  institu:«  from  that  of  all 
others.   In  so  doing*,  we  describe  the  Visitation  as  it  waa 
finally  settled  after  the  establishment  of  the  enclosure. 
Each  house  consisted  of  three  classes :   the  Sisters  of 
the  Choir,  who  were  obliged  to  say  office ;  the  Asso- 
ciate Sisters,  who  were  not  under  that  obligation ;  and 
the  Domestic  Sisters,  who  were  concerned  m  the  duties 
of  the  house.  Their  breviary  consisted  only  of  the  Little 
Office  of  the  Blessed  Virgin ;   one  reason  he  had  for 
this  limitation,  was  the  great  difficulty  of  teaching 
ladies  to  chant  Latin  with  a  proper  accent,  to  which 
he  attached  much  importance,  and  in  which  he  found 
the  natives  of  France  peculiarly  deficient.    The  choral 
music  of  the  Visitation  became  however  exceedingly 
beautiful,  and  he  speaks  of  this  in  his  letters  with  great 
delight.    In  writing  to  Cardinal  Bellarmine,  he  says, 
''that  the  chant  was  so  happily  formed  according  to 
Jie  rules  of  piety,  that  he  can  hardly  tell  whether  its 
■weetness  is  surpassed  by  its  gravity,  or  its  gravity  by 
its  sweetness."    The  age  at  which  postulants  coufd  be 
admitted  was  not  to  fail  short  of  sixteen;  \mt  widows 
tnd  ladies  even  of  extreme  old  age  might  be  admitted, 
as  also  those  of  the  most  delicate  and  weakly  coniftitu- 
tions,  and  those  even  who  laboured  under  personal  de- 
formity, provided  these  afflictions  were  not  such  as  to 
interfere  with  their  joming  in  the  service  of  the  depart- 
ment in  which  they  were  placed.    The  austerities,  as 
maybe  supposed,  were  not  exti-eme;  and  so  much  kind- 
ness is  shown  to  those  of  dehcate  constitntion,  (hsX  it  is 
opiaMly  Mid  'Jtuj  must  not  maka  a  iampla  to  aat  oar 


OB.  IX.]  ST.  FHAIfCIS  9B  SALBt.  109 

of  meal-time  if  they  raally  required  it;  but  they  wen 
ordered  never  to  leave  table  without  huymg  at  leas^ 
mortihed  themselves  in  soniethinir. 

Bach  coiuinunity  of  the  V  isitation  consisted  of 
thirty-three^  of  whom  twenty  were  Choir-sisterS)  nine 
Associates,  and  four  Doinestic-sistei's ;  the  Superioi'esi 
must  have  been  professed  for  five  years,  and  be  not  less 
than  thiity  years  of  a^e ;  she  is  assisted  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  house  by  a  council  of  four  coadjutors,, 
whose  opinion,  though  she  is  bound  to  consult,  she  is 
not  necessarily  to  adopt.  From  among  them  or  the 
rest  of  the  Sisters  she  w»^  to  choose  two,  called  SurveiU 
lanteSf  whose  business  ir  is  to  observe  any  faults  that 
are  committed,  and  coniv:  with  the  Superioress  on  th^ 
best  ramedies  to  ajiply.  A  beautiful  spirit  of  maternity 
reigns  throughout  the  instructicns  which  the  Saint 
gives  for  the  guidance  of  the  Superioress.  The  Sistert 
are  to  repose  in  her  precisely  that  sweet  confidence 
which  an  mfant  reposes  in  its  mother ;  and  as  an  infant 
would  fly  to  its  mother  if  it  were  torn  by  a  brier  o 
stung  by  a  bee,  so  every  sorrow,  little  ana  great,  muaj 
find  a  remedy  in  the  sweet  wisdom  of  the  gentle  and 

Erudent  Superioress.  In  fact,  what  an  infidel  author 
as  said  is  tne  first  human  need,  namely,  true  guidance, 
In  return  for  loving  obedience,  was  exemplified  in  the 
relations  of  the  Superioress  and  her  nuns.  The  second 
functionary  in  a  Visitation  convent  was  the  Assistant ; 
her  office  was  to  act  for  the  Superioress  in  her  absence, 
and  to  superintend  the  due  performance  of  the  choral 
service ;  to  take  care  of  the  books  of  the  convent,  to  oee 
that  none  were  used  tmless  authorised  by  the  spiritual 
Father  or  Confessor,  and  to  keep  the  jtroper  order  on 
lays  of  confession  and  communion.  Tlie  duties  of  the 
Directress  or  Mistress  of  the  novices  are  beautifully  ex* 
plained ;  she  is  to  exercise  them  in  obedience,  sweetness, 
and  modesty,  and  to  clear  away  from  their  characters 
idl  those  foUies,  tendernesses,  and  sickly  humours,  by 
wbioh  mmds,  especially  of  women,  are  often  made  Ian* 
fiud  tnd  aifMolMl:  ih*  initmott  Umb  in  th«  birt 


no 


IT.  VBAHOIt  DB  tALM. 


1.  '>'*'■•!'('■  ;l  ^i{' 


f 

U   - 


■ffpi 


iJ;:i 


:.'    ^.    t 


i  •  ■'■; 

1     k\: 


BM^ods  of  prayer  and  meditation,  and  other  spirttoA. 
tunifles;  she  teaches  them  how  to  confess  in  the  man- 
ner most  calculated  for  their  spiritual  prolit,  how  to  em- 
ploy their  confessions  and  communions  to  the  best  ad- 
▼antage,  and  in  particular  to  see  that  they  carry  out  to 
the  utmost  that  ^at  business  of  all  convents,  inter- 
cessory prayer :  her  mind  must  be  humble,  generous, 
noble,  and  universal, — by  which  last  qualification  we 
understand  the  founder  to  mean,  that  liberal  and  lai|;e> 
minded  capacity  of  entering  into  the  feelings  and  diffi- 
culties of  others,  so  as  not  to  be  discouraged  even  when 
a  disposition  appears  somewhat  rude  and  unmanageable 
at  first  sight;  she  is  patiently  to  cultivate  and  ti*ain 
such  wild  plants,  till  tuey  are  completely  brought  into 
order  and  reclaimed,  so  as  to  grace  and  adorn  the  gar- 
den of  the  Loi'd*  One  of  the  rules  for  this  office  showt 
in  a  particular  manner  Francis's  insight  into  cliaracter 
He  says :  **  She  will  take  care  not  to  amuse  herself  witii 
the  outward  appearances  of  the  novices,  which  often  de- 
pend only  on  a  graceful  demeanour  and  elegant  style  of 
manners,  or  on  the  quickness  of  the  intellect  and  pro 
prie^  of  language ;  but  she  will  as  far  as  possible  pene 
trate  into  the  very  depths  of  their  hearts,  so  as  to  dis- 
cern their  faults,  and  to  know  with  what  hand  to  guide 
them."  He  elsewhere  cautions  the  Superioress  to  take 
care  to  be  on  her  guard  ajgainst  any  mere  natural  incli- 
nation, founded  on  the  noble  extraction  of  the  nuns,  the 
gentleness  of  their  characters,  their  elegant  manners,  or 
other  attractive  qualities.  One  can  in  tact  easily  under- 
stand how  the  polished  manners  and  soft  demeanour, 
learned  in  a  society  like  that  of  Fran'^e  in  those  daySy 
might  bear  an  external  resemblance  to  the  true  gentle- 
nesB  produced  by  the  Christian  character ;  just  as  the 
buoyancy  of  youth,  the  ardour  of  imagination,  the  reso- 
luteness of  merely  physical  courage,  pixxluce  result! 
which,  where  the  character  is  to  a  considerable  extent 
influenced  by  grace,  mi^ht  be  mistaken  for  the  higher 
Banifeetationi  of  the  spiritual  life. 

Asodiw  importuit  offiflt  m  tht  «obiiiiiiiiiIj  wm  tbn 


«.J 


0T.  FRANOIf  DB  fALBS. 


Ill 


«ned  the  Aide  of  the  Superioress.    This  was  a  Sister 
ehoeen  by  the  Superioress  herself,  whose  business  it  was 
to  warn  her  of  tne  faults  that  she  committed,  and  to 
whom  all  the  Sisters  were  to  address  themselves  if 
they  saw  any  thing  in  the  Superioress  which  required 
admonition.    In  this,  as  in  many  other  parts  of  the 
constitutions,  we    discern   the    element   of  Christian 
friendship  to  be  largely  made  use  of.    The  Sister  in 
charge  of  the  househola  has  her  duties  marked  out  in 
m  manner  which  shows  the  most  thorough  business- 
talents  on  Uie  part  of  the  founder ;  indeed,  this  chapter, 
as  well  as  those  which  relate  to  the  Superioress  and 
the  Directress,  might  be  studied  with  ^at  advantage 
by  mothers  of  famihes,  and  all  who  have  charge  of 
household  affairs.    Every  nun  who  studied  the  consti- 
tutions, no  matt/cr  what  her  rank,  from  the  Superioress 
down  to  the  Portress  or  humblest  lay-sister,  must  have 
felt  that  the  foimder  gave  to  every  one  of  the  offices  an 
iqual  share  of  his  attention.     Every  thing  in  its  own 
department  is  accounted  good ;  and  no  vocation  is  to  be 
despised.    To  return,  however,  to  the  Sister  whom,  for 
want  of  a  better  English  word,  we  must  call  the  house- 
keeper.   She  was  to  undertake  this  duf  with  a  special 
f  delity  and  gladness,  in  imitation  of  ti^e  holy  women 
Irho  followed  our  Loi-d  and  the  Apostles,  to  provide  them 
with  what  tney  reauired.    She  was  to  copy  the  dih- 
fence  and  fervour  oi  St.  Martha,  but  to  avoid  her  anx- 
iety and  emprMsement, — ^i  fault  against  which,  as  every 
reader  of  St.  Francis  must  have  observed,  the  Saint  is 
continually  preaching.    The  housekeeper  was  to  see  to 
the  storage  of  all  the  provisions  of  the  house  in  their 
proper  season,  and  to  look  at  them  from  time  to  time,  to 
■ee  that  nothing  was  STH>iling.    Twice  a  year  she  was  to 
go  over  the  whole  estaoHshment  with  the  SurveillanteSy 
io  make  a  report  on  it  to  the  Superioress ;  she  was  to 
keep  exact  accounts  and  inventories  of  all  that  came 
onaer  her  charge,  to  distnbute  to  the  Sisters  the  mate- 
liala  for  work,  and  to  take  care  that  the  lay-sisters  were 
■iithff  oyarahirgad  with  toil  nor  illowea  to  be  iil^ 


I 


mn 


'i^ 


1: 


119  IT.  FRANCIS  DB  8ALBS. 

The  instnictions  for  the  sncnsty  afford  us  a  gpood  iniigfak 
into  Francis's  views  as  regards  htua'  matters.     He  in- 
sists very  particularly  on  the  neatness,  cleanlinbss,  and 
griod  order  of  the  church,  of  all  the  ornaments,  vest> 
ments,  and  furniture  of  the  altar.    The  sister-sacristao 
is  to  rememher,  that  our  Lord  always  loved  neatness 
and  cleanliness,  and  that  Joseph  and  Nicodemus  wer« 
praised  for  having'  huried  His  body  carefiilly  and  neatlj 
▼ith  nerfumes  and  precious  ungiients.    Throuj^hout  the 
houseliold  there  reig^ied  the  utmost  simplicity ;  but  at 
Uie  same  time  the  most  perfect  neatness  and  cleanhness. 
On  this  he  lays  particular  sti'ess ;  and  one  reason  for  it 
•indoubtedly  was,  that  the  institution  was  intended  for 
«dies  who  had  been  accustomed  in  the  world  to  the 
-^finements  and  elegances  of  Ufe.    These  indeed  thej 
▼ere  to  sacrifice ;  but  it  was  not  part  of  the  idea  of  hif 
■Astitute  that  the  mortification  or  slovenliness  and  dii 
Mmfort  should  be  adopted :  for  instance,  though  he  fbiw 
^ds  silver  plate  in  general,  he  allows  them  to  have 
ipoons  made  of  that  metal  for  the  sake  of  neatness,  **  4 
mue  de  VhonnStetSy^  and  also  because  St.  Augustine, 
m  whose  rules  their  mstitute  was  based^  used  no  other 
ilver  plate  except  these.     But  whatever  re^rictions 
hem  might  be  as  to  expensive  furniture  in  the  house. 
«he  altar  was  to  be  as  rich  and  precious  as  thej  coula 
srith  prudence  make  it, ''  for  the  honour  and  glory  of 
Tknl,  who  resides  there  in  a  most  special  and  aomurable 
manner."    One  curious  rule  he  lays  down  is,  that  they 
<hall  throughout  the  whole  house  make  no  Images  like 
JoUs  (poupSes)f  still  less  put  any  upon  the  altar,  either 
to  represent  our  Lord,  or  our  Lady,  or  the  angels,  or  any 
thing ;  that  they  shall  have  images  well  made  and  ap- 
proved of  by  the  spiritual  father,  especially  those  theY 
put  upon  the  altar.    However,  he  regards  all  the  busi- 
ness of  the  sacristan,  and  the  proper  arrangement  of  the 
ehurch,  to  be  of  such  extreme  importance,  that  a  sepa- 
rate directory  should  he>  made  for  the  sacristan,  whioL 
4he  was  to  have  always  before  her  eyes,  and  read  over 
t  month,  so  as  to  fiul  in  nothiof  toat  mu  wxittM 


OH.  TX.] 


ST.  FRAWCIS  DB  tALKS. 


lis 


In  it.    Hii   sxpressioQ  is  particularly  strong .  '*  Th« 
lonj^effation,"  lie  says,     have  an  incomparable  interest 
that  this  ^'liarffe  slitui  be  paftmmately  well  exercised." 
The  office  of  tlie  Infirm*  jian  bring;s  us  to  a  veiy  cha- 
racteiistic  depai'tmeut  ot  tlie  institute.     We  have  seen 
that  the  sick  and  the  aged  were  not  excluded  from 
the  life  of  perfection  which  Francis  marked  out.    Tha 
niles  for  the  comfoii;  and  well-being"  of  tliese  Sisters  are 
strikinj^ly  beautifiU.     "  The  Infirmarian  is  to  breatha 
nothing  out  ciiarity,  not  only  in  order  to  serve  the  sick 
Sisters  well,  but  to  l)ear  with  the  fancies,  distresses,  tind 
ill-humour  the  poor  sick  people  often  derive  from  their 
mfinnities.     She  is  to  divert  their  disagreeable  impres- 
sions in  the  rnftest  and  most  dexterous  way  she  can, 
without  evpr  snowing  herself  disgusted  or  annoyed.  She 
is  to  have  a  list  to  help  her  memory  of  every  thing  re- 
quii'ed  for  the  comfort  and  good  order  of  the  infirmary, 
and  to  take  cai'ethat  tiie  rooms  shall  be  neat,  clean,  ana 
nicely  ornamented   with   pictures,  green  leaves,  and 
flowers,  according  as  the  season  shall  permit."  ^Thus  we 
see,  that  in  some  degrc-e  the  idea  of  the  Visitation  resem- 
bled that  oi  Lea  Pctites  Scnitnt  (It's  PauvreSy  except  that 
the  sick  wore  themselves  religious,  and  not  so  far  infirm 
as  to  be  incapable  of  adheiing  to  tb'*  rules.    Their  pre- 
sence in  the  convent  was  of  course  the  same  advantage 
to  those  Sisters  who  were  in  health  as  the  objects  of  their 
angelic  charity  are  to  the  holv  order  to  which  we  have 
alluded.    They  would  fiirnisn  them  with  examples  of 
patience,  with  the  hving  copy  of  the  sufferingr  ol*  our 
Lord ;  a  d  by  waiting  on  tiiem  without  goiuL'  out  of 
their  enclosure,  they  might  add  the  virtues  of  Martha 
to  those  of  Mary.     In  a  Convent  of  Mercy  with  whicn 
we  are  acquainted,  the  good  Sisters  have  lor  tins  very 
purpose  taxen  into  their  hous<«.  as  an  inmate,  a  poor 
creature  afflicted  with  cancer.    The  sweet  resignation 
and  the  imfailing  prayers  of  this    ...  woman  are  a  per- 
petual edification  to  tue  good  Sisters ;  her  intercession  is 
wonderfully  effioaoious,  and  we  believe  a  whole  chaptet 
might  bt  fiUad  with  iUutratioBt  of  th«  good  nmiti  d»> 


V  i  I 


»•, 


m,:  ■ 


mm 


114 


ST.  FRANCIS  DB  SALBt. 


!|:^- 


'.^ 


I ;{  ,1 


rived  from  the  constant  witnessing  of  such  patience  ia 
affliction.     But  to  ratum  to  the  Visitation.    The  idea 
suggested  in  the  chapter  on  the  Infirmainan,  short  as  it 
is,  seems  to  embudy  the  very  principle  of  the  orders 
engaged  in  active  charity.    Tliose  constitutions  which 
relate  to  the  smaller  offices  of  the  house,  suah  as  the 
keeper  of  the  wardrobe  and  the  laundry,  are  eqiially 
interesting  in  their  way.     Those  which  give  rules  for 
4ie  lay-8i8ters,  whether  domestics  or  tovrihfiJif  contain 
a  kind  of  sketch  of  the  duties  of  the  Catholic  servant, 
and  afford  another  illustmtion  of  tliat  most  useful  action 
on  society  which  all  the  religious  orders  possess,  but 
which,  in  a  particular  degi'ee,  we  discern  in  the  Visita- 
tion.    One  rule  is  worth  quoting  at  lenf^h.     "  The  Sis- 
ters employed  in  the  kitchen  and  the  other  household 
service  will  do  it  with  cheerfulness  &n^  consolation,  re- 
collecting what  St.  Maltha  did,  and  reprei  "Oting  to 
themselves  those  little  but  sweet  med  ^atk^o*  waidh  St. 
Catherine  of  Sienna  made  use  of,  wh' ,  in  i^   nidst  u5 
such  tasks,  did  not  cease  her  ecstatio  jontHC>?   a<4»)s  of 
God.    Thus  ought  the  Sisters  as  fa;  as  possiudk  co  hold 
their  hearts  recollected  in  the  goodn  as  of  God,  Who,  if 
they  are  faithful,  will  one  day  dec'  ae  before  the  whole 
\7orld)  that  what  they  did  for  His  servants  was  done  fox 
Him."    Before  quitting  the  subjfct  of  tne  ffo'  'mment 
of  the  house,  we  should  notice  tlat  special  feuT^tire  of  it 
which  consists  in  the  office  of  ths  spiritual  father.  The 
supreme  tataority  over  the  conp  regation  was  that  of  the 
bishop,  wHeh  Francis  preferrp  i  to  that  of  the  father- 
genend,  which  is  more  usual  in  other  orders,  because 
any  abuses  or  any  decay  in  t\e  spirit  of  the  institution 
was  more  likely  to  be  checV  :d  by  the  frequent  change 
in  the  depositary  of  the  ch'  f  authority,  wnere  this  was 
held  by  the  bishop  of  the  diocese.     But  whatever  ad- 
vantage wiis  derived  in  r   spiritual  point  of  view  from 
the  office  of  the  father-g^  aeral,  he  still  retained  by  insti' 
tutin^  that  of  the  spi'  tual  father.    This  officer  wai 
appomted  by  the  hi^\'  »,  and  his  duty  was  to  take  oars 
^ttt  tht  ruMB  V  Ji  ohsflrred,  aoid  that  no  ebuBg^ 


M.  II.] 


fT.  FlUNOIt  DS  tllBt. 


la 


it 

idea 

as  it 

dera 

hich 

the 

.ally 
for 

tain 

aiit, 
ction 
,  but 
isita- 
I  Sis- 
)hold  1 
:,  re-     * 

hSt. 
Istc!" 
m  of 
>  Hold 
ho,  if 
rhole 
le  foi 
ment 
of  it 
The 
•fthe 
ther- 
muse 
utioD 
ange 
I  was 
rad- 
froiD 
nsti- 
wai 
can 


or  abuse  was  introduced.  He  was  fitlt  the  honit 
once  a  ^ear,  in  company  with  another  ecclesiastic  of  ripe 
af^,  yirtuous  and  discreet.  He  was  to  be  present  at 
the  elections  of  the  Superioress  and  ordinary  confessor ; 
was  to  sign  iierraissions  when  any  extraordinary  reason 
made  it  necessary  for  a  sister  to  go  out  of  the  convent ; 
and  to  Iiim  both  the  Superioress  and  the  other  Sistert 
were  to  have  recourse,  whenever  there  was  occasion 
for  sitecial  prudence  or  foresight.  With  regard  to  the 
ordinary  confessor,  the  rules  which  Francis  lavs  down 
for  his  choice  are  such  as  might  be  supiiosed  m>m  the 
importance  of  the  office.  He  was  to  discliarge  the  office 
of  the  spiritual  father  in  his  absence,  as  regarded  grant- 
ing dispensations  and  giving  advice  in  any  questiom 
that  miglit  arise.  One  point  which  Francis  apnears  tl 
have  provided  for  with  considerable  anxiety  in  the  rulea 
of  tliis  office  is,  tliRt  the  confessor  should  lie  thoroughly 
imbued  wit!i  the  s])irit  of  tlie  institute ;  he  was  to  take 
particular  care  to  avoid  doing  any  thing,  either  by  the 
imposition  of  extmoitlinary  ])enances,  or  by  the  oounsdr 
and  advice  given  in  confession,  which  mignt  disturb  till 
order  and  the  routine  of  the  monastery.  The  hoi} 
founder  carcfidly  secures  for  the  Sisters  the  privilege  of 
confessing  or  confernng  on  the  state  of  their  conscience 
with  any  person  of  known  cliaracter,  without  the  Supe- 
rioress asking  why  the  Sister  wishes  to  do  so.  Yet  if 
she  frequently  demands  it,  then  the  Superioress  will  in- 
form the  spiritual  father,  who  will  dexterously  prevent 
the  holy  lii)erty  of  confession  fi-om  degenerating  into  n 
source  of  disquiet,  melancholy,  aversion  to  the  ordinary 
confessor,  or  a  vain  preference  for  individuals. 

The  f^entle  spirit  of  these  constitutions  was  much 
attacked  ny  tha  rigorists  of  the  age,  who,  complain- 
ing of  the  deficiency  of  exterior  austerities,  said  that 
**  these  religious  had  found  out  the  secret  of  going  to 
Paradise  by  a  road  sown  with  roses  without  thorns,  of 
entering  into  it  by  another  door  than  that  of  tlie  Cross, 
and  wim  another  Icey  than  that  which  the  Son  of  David 
on  Hit  abouldara."    Othen  niok-named  tilt  im- 


n 


"I 


116  IT.  fmiiron  si  ialml 

ititnte  the  "  ConfrAternity  of  the  Desoent  of  the  CroM,* 
and  others  said  that  the  oishop  was  founding  a  hoi> 
pital  rather  than  a  monastery.  The  proper  answer  to 
all  these  objections  is  affordea  by  the  multitude  of  holy 
souls  who  were  nurtured  by  tms  institution,  and  who 
would  otheiinse  have  had  no  assistance  of  that  kind  to 
enable  them  to  reach  the  perfection  intended  for  them; 
and  by  the  rapidity  with  which  it  spread  throughout  the 
Catholic  Church,  showing^  that  it  met  the  needs  of  reli- 
gion at  that  time.  The  Church  itself  has  placed  the 
winning*  gentleness  of  the  Salesian  spirit  beyond  the 
reach  of  dispute,  by  permitting  it  to  influence  as  it 
has  done  the  method  of  direction  ever  since.  Before 
the  death  of  Francis  de  Sales,  houses  of  the  Visitation 
were  founded,  under  his  auspices,  at  Lyons,  Moulins, 
Grenoble,  Boucges,  Paris,  Orleans,  and  Bfjon;  and  in 
less  than  sixty  jears  from  the  first  foundation  the  order 
reckoned  no  fewer  than  120  monasteries.  Here  the 
limits  of  this  biography  obHge  us  to  leave  this  subject; 
and  we  proceed  to  trace  the  general  life  xi  the  Bainl 
from  the  period  when  we  interrui>ted  it  to  give  ooi* 
timunuly  the  hiitory  of  thii,  hii  pn}iun|ML  fraiulstioB. 


u., 


f  .'f 


St  V"     ■■• 


ff 


^•x.1 


•T.  FBAirCIt  Dl  fAll 


*B 


CHAPTER  X 

fOraSATIOIf  OV  TBB  FLORIMOIfTANB  ACADBMT  —  THB  TBSATIUi  OV 
**TBB  INTRODUCIION*'  AND  **  THE  LOTS  OV  OOO.** 

In  1606  and  1606  he  made  a  general  yisitation  of  hii 
whole  diocese^  underf^oing  excessive  fati^e,  and  often 
ffreat  danger,  in  traversing  the  Alpine  districts,  which 
formed  the  ^eatest  part  of  it,  and  every  where  preach 
mg,  catechismt^,  and  Learing  confessions,  with  the  utmost 
seal  and  assiouity.  The  results  of  this  yisitation  he 
embodied  in  a  report  to  the  Holy  Father,  which  forms 
a  most  copious  and  interesting  record  of  his  apostolic 
labours,  and  of  those  business  details,  the  possession 
of  which  is  so  essential  to  the  good  government  of  a 
diocese,  and  which  his  talents  peculiarly  fitted  him  to 
acquire,  widely  distinct  as  atfirat  sight  a  mind  of  heroio 
charity  like  his  seems  to  be  fiom  that  which  is  besi 
qualified  to  conduct  the  transactions  of  the  world. 

In  1607,  in  combination  with  the  President  Favre, 
ie  founded  a  literary  institution  at  Annecy,  called  the 
/lorimontane  Academy.  The  rules  which  he  enacted 
for  it  are  among  the  most  curious  of  his  opuscula.  Only 
Catholics  of  good  character  were  to  be  admitted  mem- 
bers of  it,  and  each  on  admission  was  to  deliver  a  dis- 
course  in  prose  or  verse  to  the  assembly.  At  the  gene- 
ral meetings,  eminent  men  in  the  various  branches  of 
art  were  to  be  admitted,  such  as  painters,  sculptors, 
Viechanios,  and  architects;  lectures  were  to  be  give** 
m  mathematics,  cosmography,  philosophy,  and  rhetoric 
^excluding  theology^  and  politics),  and  on  tiie  cultivation 
to  languages,  especially  the  French  language.  The  style 
of  speaking  was  to  be  prose,  polished  ana  full,  without 
ifiectation ;  and  the  lecturers  were  as  much  as  possible 
to  dispose  of  one  subject  in  each  lecture,  and  ao  their 
utmost  '<to  teach  well,  much,  and  in  a  short  time." 
Besides  the  leetuiciy  tbera  were  to  be  dieeoonea  m  • 


Ut 


r    t 


i) 


v: 


M  ft.  VBANOII  DB  flALBt. 

more  ornamented  ftjle,  implying  the  use  of  the  ontorieat 
art  Pereons  of  rank,  sucii  as  nobles  and  prelates,  were 
to  have  a  place  to  themseWes  at  the  meeting.  The 
officers  were  to  be  the  president,  a  man  of  distinction 
and  yirtues,  cealous  for  the  good  of  the  academy;  his 
assessors;  the  secretary,  who  was  to  bt  ''a  man  of  dear. 
aoQte,  ready  and  generous  wit,  and  versed  in  literature;" 
the  censors,  who  were  to  be  thoroughly  well  versed  in 
every  thing,  and  ''  like  an  encyolopsBoia;''  the  treasurer, 
and  a  paidattendant. 

In  the  following  year,  1608,  he  brought  out  the 
work  by  which  he  is  best  known,  and  which  contains  in 
the  most  popular  form  the  results  of  his  experience  in 
the  conduct  of  souls.  This  is  the  Introduction  to  ths 
Mritual  JAfef  a  book  which,  notwithstanding  all  the 
ehan^  of  manners,  remains  unequalled  as  a  manual  of 
practical  instructions  for  those  who  are  endeavouring  to 
Mad  a  holy  life  in  the  world.  The  possession  of  this 
book,  and  the  grace  to  stud  v  it,  are  a  blessing  second 
only  to  that  of  oein^  under  tne  g^danoe  of  a  wise  and 
holy  director.  Nothmg  is  omittM  in  it :  the  method  of 
meditation,  of  confession,  of  receiving  holy  communion, 
the  arrangement  of  one's  day,  the  means  of  arriving  at 
the  different  virtues,  and  the  choice  of  them ;  rules  on 
the  promotion  of  friendship,  the  kind  and  degree  of 
amusements  to  be  permittea,  the  method  of  dealing  with 
temptations,  advice  as  to  periodical  renewal  of  one's  good 
resolutions, — ^the  whole  system  of  the  spiritual  lire  ia 
here  laid  down  with  a  riclmess  of  experience  and  an  in- 
Offht  into  the  heart  which  has  never  been  surpassed. 
Vbio  only  book  at  all  to  be  compared  with  it  is  Roariguei 
on  Christian  Perfection ;  but  there  is  a  certain  sweet 
and  genial  simplicity  peculiar  to  Francis  de  Sales,  which 
recommends  his  book  even  more  than  that  treasury  of 

59iritual  wisdom  to  persons  living  in  the  world.  The 
ntroduetion  to  the  Devout  lAfe  was  drawn  up  by 
FVancis  chiefly  from  letters  he  nad  written  to  one  of 
his  penitents,  Madame  de  Charmoisv.  These  letters 
rat  handMi  about  in  nuttnaariiit^  ana  w««  so  admired^ 


M.  Z.] 


•T.  VRANClt  DSL  SALlf. 


n» 


that  bia  friends  urged  uj)on  him  the  publication  oi  a  com- 

Slete  work  embodying  their  results.  The  bocik  imrae- 
iately  obtained  a  vast  circulation  throughoi't  Europe, 
and  even  became  known  in  England  soon  aflter  its  a{>- 
pearance,  a  oopr  having  been  sent  by  Marie  de  Modicis 
to  James  I.,  wlio  was  exceedingly  struck  with  it,  and 
expressed  Ma  surprise  that  no  such  work  ever  oama 
from  the  pen  of  his  bishops.  The  moderation  of  the 
view  taken  by  the  holy  writer  as  to  the  worldly  amuse- 
ments  of  balls  and  dancmgi  raised  some  controversj 
amonff  the  ri^orist  school,  one  of  whom  went  so  fiur  af 
to  declaim  against  the  book  from  the  pulpit,  and  actuallj 
to  tear  it  in  pieces  in  the  middle  of  his  sermon.  Never 
was  an  attack  more  unjust;  for  there  are  few  persona 
indeed  who  could  calmly  read  the  chapter  in  the  In- 
troduction on  the  subject  of  balls,  ana  not  rather  be 
powerfully  detached  from  those  amusements  than  en- 
couraged to  adopt  them.  Francis  allows  only  that  *'  in 
their  own  nature  they  are  indifferent;"  but  devotoi 
a  long  disquisition  to  show  that  they  are  ''usually 
dangerous,  dissipate  the  spirit  of  devotion,  weaken 
strength,  chill  onarity,  and  awaken  in  the  soul  innu- 
merable evil  affections;  so  that  great  prudence  is  re- 
quired in  their  use." 

In  1600  he  was  engaged  in  effecting  reforms  in  the 
Benedictine  Abbey  of  Talloires,  and  of  those  monas- 
teries which,  like  that  of  Sixt,  had  in  the  course  of  ages 
fallen  into  a  lax  and  irregular  state.  He  completely 
succeeded  in  bringmg  it  not  only  into  conformity  with 
the  rulos^  but  to  be  a  most  fervent  and  edif)ring  commu- 
nity. Soon  afterwards  he  went  to  Gex,  wnither  he  was 
summoned  by  order  of  Henry  IV.  to  confer  with  the 
Baron  de  Luz,  the  king's  lieutenant-general  in  Bur- 
gundy, on  the  reUgious  affairs  of  Gex.  On  this  occa- 
sion the  Rhone  was  flooded;  he  boldly  passed  through 
the  city  of  Geneva  in  his  episcopal  habit,  and  styling 
himself  to  the  officer  at  the  gate  as  the  bishop  of  the 
diocese.  The  officer  did  not  seem  to  understand  the 
•ipnaoom;  and  Franai  fsnuuned  a  whole  hour  in  tbt 


ido 


ft.  PRAircn  t>B  tALSt. 


'•'I. 


j 


in     ■ 


^ 


9  i>^ 


i  i 


city  without  molestation.  During  this  visit  to  0«i 
he  succeeded  in  restoring  to  Catliolic  worship  eight 
Darish-churches,  and  made  a  g^'eat  number  of  conver- 
sions. 

The  same  year  was  marked  by  an  event  which  had 
very  great  effect,  not  so  much  on  his  Hfe  as  in  providing 
tn  observer  of  tliat  life,  who  has  handed  down  a  singTi- 
lai'ly  minute  and  beautiful  j)icture  of  it.  This  was  the 
consecration  of  Peter  Camus,  Bishop  of  Belley,  at 
which  Francis  de  Sales  officiated,  ana  which  was  the 
commencement  of  a  fi'iendship  between  the  two  pre- 
lates  lasting  till  Francis's  death.  As  their  dioceses  were 
close  to  each  other,  and  the  Bishop  of  Belley,  both  from 
his  youth  (he  was  but  twenty-five  years  old  when 
consecrated)  and  from  his  ardent  and  reverential  dis* 
Dosition,  beffan  immediately  to  look  up  to  Francis  as 
tis  spiritual  father  and  o^uide,  he  saw  him  very  fre- 
luently,  and  asked  his  advice  whenever  he  was  in  any 
flifficulty.  Once  a  year  the  two  bishops  made  it  a  rule  to 
spend  a  week  in  retreat  at  each  other's  house;  and  the 
Bishop  of  Belley  took  the  fullest  advantage  of  the  many 
opportunities  he  had  to  keep  a  copious  record  of  the 
sonvei'sations  of  Fitmcis.  These  reminiscences  he  col- 
.ected  into  the  book  entitled  L^  Esprit  de  S,  Francois 
de  SaleSf  perhaps  the  most  interesting  and  valuable,  as 
it  is  one  of  the  most  curious  compilations  ever  written. 
The  only  work  at  all  resembling  it — thougli  of  course 
we  only  compare  them  in  a  purely  seculai*  and  literary 
point  01  view — is  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson.  The  latter 
biography  is  often  considered  as  something  perfectly 
unique,  and  without  any  thing  either  equal  or  similar 
to  it  as  a  complete  poi'trait  of  the  life  and  character  of 
&n  individual.  Pei'sons  who  so  speak  of  Boswell's 
lohnton  cannot  have  read  J^  Esprit  de  S.  J^an^ois 
de  Salest  a  record  nearly  as  voluminous,  and  show 
ing  quite  as  much  of  that  genius  fitr  singling  out  t 
hero,  and  dwelling  on  his  cliaracter  till  the  minutett 
festui^  of  it  is  represented  with  the  fidelity  of  the  most 
life- like  painting 


if 


911   1L] 


it.  V1UN0!S  Dll  BA  MB, 


m 


if 


i 


In  1610  Francis  de  Sales  had  tLe  a£9iction  of  losing 
hiB  old  precentor  the  Abb6  Deage,  whose  declining  yean 
he  had  soothed  with  filial  kindness.     It  may  be  men- 
tiofiftu  as  an  instance  of  the  sweet  and  affectionate  cha- 
racter of  the  Saint,  that  when  he  said  Mass  for  the  re- 
pose of  the  old  man's  soul,  on  reaching  the  "  Our  Fa- 
ther," he  was  so  overcome  by  the  recollection  that  the 
poor  Abb6  had  first  tauj^ht  him  to  say  the  "  Our  Fa- 
ther," that  hf>  was  almost  unable  to  proceed.  The  same 
vear  he  had  another  great  loss,  though  not  by  death, 
m  the  promotion  of  Antoine  Favre  to  the  presidentship 
of  the  senate  of  Chamb^ry,  and  liis  consequent  with« 
drawal  from  Annecy,  where  he  had  lived  in  the  most 
intimate  friendship  with  the  holy  bishop.    As  regarded 
iiis  episcopal  labours,  the  life  of  Francis  about  thir 
perioa  seems  to  have  been  crowded  with  work,  and, 
like  every  other  part  of  his  career,  full  of  incidents 
characterising  his  untiring  sweetness  and  diligfence.  He 
made  two  or  three  remarkable  eor  versions  this  year, 
one  of  them  a  Calvinist  lady  of  Geneva,  Madame  de 
8te.  Sergues,  who  was  so  conspicuous  for  her  bitterness 
;lgain8t  Catholicity,  and  her  activity  on  behalf  of  her 
sect,  that  she  used  to  go  by  the  nickname  of  *'the 
Arch-ministress."  Another  was  a  Baron  de  Monthelon, 
whose  first  impulse  towards  the  faith  was  given  by  the 
reading  of  the  Introduction.  A  tliird  was  a  poor  apos- 
tate friar,  named  Bartholonio,  who,  much  like  some 
melancholy  cases  in  the  pi*esent  day.,  had  abandoned 
the  faith  merely  for  the  indul<>'ence  of  his  passions. 
He  had  recourse  to  Francis  de  Sales,  as  the  common 
father  of  prodigal  children,  and  was  charitably  brought 
back  to  the  true  fold. 

Besides  the  general  business  of  the  diocese,  Fran^ 
CIS  had  at  this  time  a  good  deal  of  con-espondence 
with  the  Holy  See;  among  other  objects,  to  procure  tha 
canonisation  of  Amadeus  III.,  Duke  of  Savoy,  whoai 
memory  was  held  in  the  highest  veneration  in  thosv 
provinces.  The  question  of  She  authorit  of  the  Holy 
Bm  in  tamponl  mftttm  wii  at  tU  mr    period  bolli 


):/ 


!?r;    i 


%l  i 


U': 


)l-    < 


if  ■  V   :;      i        ■  ^i| 


|:v 


t  ', 

1 

^^S 

i]  ^ 

§ 

u 

iij 

Idy  AT.  FRANCIS  DB  SALBt. 

eontested  tlirou^hout  Europe.    Bellarminey  in  his  oeI«- 
brated  work,  3e  Romano  Pontifiae,  had  maintaiiied 
the  theory  that  the  Pope  has,  hy  Divine  ri^ht,  an  indi- 
rect power  even  in  temporals,  — a  view  which  at  Rome 
was  thought  too  moderate,  and  hy  the  GalHcan  theo- 
logians too  strong.  In  France  the  controversy  was  vehe- 
mently agitated  on  both  sides,  much  to  the  distress  of 
Francis  oe  Sales,  whose  gentle  spirit  saw  no  advantage 
in  thus  letting  out  the  waters  of  stiife.  The  course  which 
he  earnestly  i-ecommended  was  silence,  on  the  ground, 
to  use  his  homely  sunilitude,  that  in  those  difficult  times 
there  was  trouble  enough  in  defending  the  brood  of  tbk 
Church  from  the  kite  which  incessantly  hovered  OTer 
them,  without  allowing  the  chickens  themselves  to  be 
pecking  at  each  other.    He  even  disapproved  of  the 
extent  to  which  Bellarmine  had  opened  the  dispute; 
not  that  he  passed  any  judgment  as  to  whether  he  was 
riffht  or  wrong,  but  f^rnply  from  the  deep  conviction 
which  he  entertamed,  both  by  reason  and  nrom  his  na* 
tural  disposition,  of  the  necessity  of  peace.    He  looked 
npon  the  question  as  easily  settled,  practically,  by  those 
«rlio  acted  in  the  spirit  ot  charity ;  out  difficult  in  the 
midst  of  such  violent  contention,  and  useless,  because 
there  was,  in  fact,  no  disposition  on  the  paii;  of  the  Pope 
to  interfere  with  the  temporal  rights  of  sovereigns, — no- 
thmg  to  call  for  the  question  Ming  opened  at  the  risk 
of  ruining  the  peace  and  unanimity  of  Catholics.    In 
an  able  memoir  addressed  to  Cardinal  Caffarelli  Bor> 
ffhese,  he  developed  this  conciliatory  policy,  recommond- 
mg  the  Holy  See  to  invite  the  French  government  to 
impose  silence  on  the  seditious  controversialists,  whose 
wntings  were  the  prelude  to  the  unhappy  variance  be- 
tween the  two  powers  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.    On 
the  Catholic  side,  he  advised  that  preachers  should  be 
ordered  to  inculcate  with  calmness  the  duty  of  subr 
mission  to  the  Holy  See,  and  that  in  re])lving  to  the 
opponents  of  the  papal  authority,  writers  should  adopt 
tue  indirect  rather  than  the  diivct  method,  and  point 
ivt  yentlj  the  nBreasonablensM  of  tooh  attaduk    He 


Ol.  z.] 


■T.  WRAVCIB  DB  tALSf. 


198 


farther  argnd  the  importance  of  acting  so  as  to  oring 
about  a  better  understandinf^  between  the  Sorbonne 
and  the  Society  of  Jesus,  the  centres  of  these  conflict- 
ing views ;  to  soothe  the  former  of  these  bodies  and 
the  French  prelacy  generally,  by  addressing  them  with 
briefs  drawn  up  in  a  winning  tone :  but  in  the  first  in- 
itanoe  to  have  the  affair  discussed  by  the  nuncio,  the 
French  cardinals,  and  the  government,  showing,  on  the 
part  of  the  Holy  See,  an  earnest  wish  for  the  cessa- 
tion of  these  disputes.  The  bitterness  of  the  foes  of 
the  Church  was  probably  too  violent  to  have  yielded 
*<o  the  oil  thus  thrown  upon  its  waters,  even  could  thft 
«iperiment  have  been  fully  tried ;  but  the  lesson  given 
by  the  gentleness  of  the  Saint  will  always  remain  a 
profitable  study  for  those  who  seek  to  convince  others 
af  the  truth.  He  set  forth  the  charity  of  the  Church, 
as  such  men  as  St.  Gregory  VII.  exhibited  her  un- 
bendmg  firmness ;  and  even  in  Francis  de  Sales  the  one 
did  not  exist  without  the  other. 

In  the  spring  of  1613,  Francis  de  Sales  made  • 
jonmey  to  Milan,  in  order  to  visit  the  tomb  of  St.  Charles 
Borromeo,  which  pilgrimage  he  had  undertaken  by 
vow,  on  occasion  oi  the  illness  of  Madame  de  ChantaL 
Important  business  also  necessitated  his  proceeding  to 
Furin.  He  sought  to  obtain  the  patronage  of  the  Duke 
of  Savoy  for  the  Order  of  the  Visitation,  and  several 
houses  of  that  iniftitute  which  he  contem])lated  esta- 
blishing; to  demand  permission  to  place  ecclesiastical 
instructors  in  tLa  college  of  Annecy  in  the  room  ol 
the  lay-teachers,  who  had  mismanaged  it ;  and  finally, 
%o  defend  a  numoer  of  persons  of  rank  who  had  been 
Jnjustly  accused  of  assassinating  the  secretary  of  the 
Duke  of  Nemours.  He  was  accompanied  on  his  journey 
by  a  large  company  of  ecclesiastics  and  laics  of  distinc- 
tion, one  of  the  latter  of  whom  has  left  a  beautiful  de* 
scription  of  his  conversation  in  travelling,  in  which  he 
relates  what  kind  and  wise  admonitions  the  Saint  gave 
him  for  his  oonduet  in  life,  as  a  courtier  and  man  ol 
be  wofldy  Mooukging  him  to  the  praotioe  of  leligifli^ 


ll      t 


i  t 
I   1 


i! 


ri 


li-  •:i 


vl 


<■'    ' 


iiiinf- 


i:i-"  •  fe 


^    i  5'- 


ifi4 


•v.  FRAlfOlS  DK  SALBt. 


as  flweet,  easy,  and  attractive^  pointing^  to  the  exaof 
(lies  of  those  who  were  sanctifiea  in  courts  and  camps, 
such  as  David,  Judas  Maccabeus,  and  St.  Louis,  and 
warning  him  of  the  vanity  of  the  world,  and  the  incon- 
stancy of  fortune.  At  Tm'in  he  was  honourably  re- 
ceived by  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  who,  except  in  the  ques- 
tion of  the  accused  peraons  for  whom  he  pleaded,  wil- 
lingly acceded  to  all  his  demands.  At  Milan,  where  he 
was  welcomed  by  the  cousin  and  successor  of  St.  Charles, 
Cardinal  Frederick  Borromeo,  he  had  the  happiness  of 
saying  Mass  at  the  tomb  of  St.  Chai'les,  and  remained 
for  hours  in  contem])lation  before  the  body  of  the  Saint, 
entreating  his  intercession  to  obtain  liim  ginice  to  govern 
Geneva  as  St.  Charles  had  governed  Milan.  So  deeply 
was  he  buried  in  these  reflections,  that  when  his  com- 

Sjnions,  on  coming  out  of  the  glorious  Cathedral  of 
ilan,  were  expressing  their  wonder  at  its  magnificence, 
he  declared  that  he  had  seen  nothing  but  the  relics  of 
the  holy  archbishop.  The  incident  reminds  one  of  the 
story 'of  St.  Bernard  travelling  a  whole  day  hy  the  lake 
lit  (ieneva,  and  being  all  the  time  so  absoroea  in  divine 
contemplation,  as  never  once  to  notice  the  marvels  of 
nature  wliich  are  there  so  beautifully  displayed.  Both 
nature  and  art  are  insignificant  in  the  presence  of  the 
splendour  of  faith.  This  visit  of  Frcjicis  to  Milan 
was  characterised  by  another  incident,  which  brought 
out  strikingly  not  only  the  intensity  of  his  faith,  but 
also  the  lovmg  and  trustful  spirit  by  which  it  was 
adorned.  Cardinal  Borromeo  having  permitted  him  to 
officiate  in  the  ceremony  of  exposing  to  public  venera- 
tion the  holy  napkin  or  sudarium  preserved  at  Milan, 
the  heat  and  pressure  in  the  church  being  extremely 
great,  Francis  s  face  was  so  drenched  witn  perspira- 
tion, that  a  few  drop  fell  on  the  holy  relic  he  held  with 
passionate  devotion  before  him.  The  occurrence  gi'eaf'iy 
distressed  the  Cardinal,  who  even  sharply  reproved  tliA 
Saint  for  carelessness.  Francis,  however,  in  the  confi- 
dence of  the  love  which  he  felt  for  his  Lord,  showed 
but  affaotioiuitolT  wised  on  iba  ban 


til 

}7 


4B.  X  I 


IT.  FRANCIS  PB  f  ALKl. 


196 


tiful  significance  of  the  circumstance,  as  showing^  thft 
goodness  of  our  Lord,  who  allows  us  to  mingle  oui 
sweat  with  that  which  fell  from  His  holy  body,  and  to 
consecrate  all  our  toils  by  a  continual  reference  to  His. 
Fitincis  returned  to  Annecy  by  the  end  of  May, 
and  occupied  himself  with  various  important  affairs, 
among  wiiich  were  the  reconstruction  of  eight  more 
parishes  in  the  province  of  Gex ;  the  establisliment  of 
the  Bai'nabites  as  teachers  in  the  College  of  Annecy, 
and  of  the  Carthusians  in  the  Abbey  of  Hipailles. 
In  1614  he  received  an  invitation  from  the  Emperor 
Mathias  I.  to  attend,  as  prince  of  the  empire,  a  diet 
to  he  held  at  Hatisbonue  the  following  year.    This 
event  is  wcthy  of  notice  as  an  historical  curiosity. 
The  bishops  of  Geneva  had  now,  for  nearly  a  century 
been  excluded  by  their  rebellious  subjects  from  occupy 
ing  the  city,  to  the  sovereignty  of  wmch  they  had  nevel 
ceased  to  assert  their  right.    The  Holy  Roman  Empire 
the  very  representative  of  prescription,  order,  and  law, 
disdained  to  recognise  the  Calvinist  republic ;  and  on 
every  occasion  when  the  princes  were  convoked  to  the 
imperial  assembUes,  sent  a  courier  to  Geneva  to  notify 
to  the  bishop,  who  was  still  supposed  to  be  there,  that 
his  attendance  was  requested  by  the  emperor.    The 
courier  reported  his  compulsory  absence ;  and  thus  the 
ancient  rights  of  the  bishous  were  rever  allowed  to 
become  dormant.     The  reply  of  Francis  to  the  em* 
peror  is  still  preserved,  in  which  he  excuses  himself  ui 
simple  but  dignified  terms,  on  the  ground  of  the  pover^ 
of  his  see.    The  same  year  he  paid  a  visit  to  his  friend 
the  Archbishop  of  Lyons,  whicn  was  attended  with  the 
important  results  to  which  we  have  already  adverted, 
of  the  establishment  of  a  Convent  of  the  Visitation  at 
Lyons,  »jid  m  the  alteration  of  the   constitutions  of 
tliat  mstitute,  the  ai'chbishop  strongly  advising  to  place 
it  on  the  footmg  of  a  regular  cloistersd  order.    Next 
year,  1615,  the  Archbishop  returned  Francis's  visit  bj 
spending  a  short  time  at  Annecy;  and  thus  theie 
moij  proUtei  ramed  the  old  OMtoiii  by  whifih^  ii 


M 


•T.  PBAN0I8  urn  lALI 


H 


t;.; 


f-:-"-^ 

i.i 

i 

1,; 

t  ij  i 

1 ,  ,  ; , 

'*    '       . 

'f 


i 


in  '  \ 


primitiye  times,  neipruboiirinff'  bifihops  were  went  to  td* 
rise  with  each  other  '^bont  the  atiairs  of  their  dioceses. 
The  Duke  of  Savoy,  ah  on  many  other  occasions,  found 
ji  this  fiiendshij)  with  a  bisiiop  with  whose  sovereii^  he 
was  at  rivalry,  the  materials  of  ungenerous  suspicion  of 
the  loyalty  of  his  illustrious  subject,  who  had  to  remove 
them  by  explaining',  what  the  duke  mipfht  surely  by  this 
time  have  Known,  that  no  political  puiirase  whatever 
entered  into  conferences  like  these.     In  the  course  of 
che  sa.Tie  year  he  was  enabled  to  place  the  Damabites 
At  Thonon  in  charg-e  of  the  educational  depaitment  of 
the  Holy  House ;  and  the  office  of  Vicar-general  of  the 
diocese  nap))ening  to  fall  vacant,  he  selected  to  fill  it 
his  brother,  John  Fi-ancis  de  Sales,  then  canon  of  the 
Gathedi-al  of  Annecy,  who  afteiwards  became  his  coad- 
jutor, and  upon  his  death  succeeded  him  as  Bishop  of 
Geneva.    John  Francis  de  Sales  was  in  temper  a  great 
contrast  to  his  brother,  his  goodness  beinf^  of  the  grave 
and  austere  kind,  somewhat  allied  to  sadness,  of  which 
there  was  not  the  slightest  trace  in  the  Saint ;  and  it 
often  happened  that  the  gentleness  and  sweetness  of 
the  one  interposed  to  remedy  the  sternness  of  the  other, 
as  equity  comes  in  to  temper  justice.    During  all  this 
lime,  and  subsequently,  Fi-ancis  was  effecting  fp*eat  re- 
A>rms  in  the  episcopal  administration,  particularly  in 
the  appointment  of  parish-priests.  Hitherto  abuses  had 
crept  in  from  the  highly  aristocratical  spirit  of  the  age 
ani  country;  and  men  had  been  placed  in  the  care  of 
souis  who  nad  little  to  recommend  them  but  the  splen- 
dour of  their  birth.     Francis,  however,  as  we  have  seen, 
resolutely  carried  out  the  principle  of  giving  away  the , 
incumbencies  by  concurmsy  that  is,  to  the  candidate  of 
the  greatest  merit,  as  tested  by  an  examination.    Thiti 
regiuation  frequently  occasioned  the  most  violent  dis- 
satisfaction on  the  part  of  e'-desiastics  and  their  relaF* 
tives,  who  obstinately  refused  to  comprehend  the  new 
arrangement ;  and  the  sweetness  of  the  Saint  was  oftei 
put  to  the  uroof  in  a  manner  which  would  have  hew 
leo  mvflh  rar  any  patinoe  bat  fueb  ■■  hi%  \ij  dinp 


«■•  z.] 


•T.  FIUNOII  am  lALIl. 


127 


pointed  cbiisanto  or  their  friends  calling:  upon  him,  and 
▼entin^  their  rafre  by  the  most  violent  ana  abusive  ex* 
pressions.  At  this  time,  it  not  unti'equently  ocourrod 
that  people  whom  his  unbending  sense  of  justice  had 
displeased,  would  beset  his  house  dui'iiig'  the  night 
witn  deafening  noises,  blowing  horns,  and  making  their 
doors  bark  and  howl.  Insults  of  this  kind  Fi'ancis  de 
Sales  knew  how  to  set  at  rest,  by  passing  them  over 
inthout  the  least  notice;  and  it  generally  happened 
that  those  who  thus  far  forgot  themselves,  took  reiiige 
from  the  stings  of  their  conscience  in  his  angeUc  spirit 
of  forgiveness,  and  made  the  humblest  a{)ologie8  for 
the  insul''i8  which,  like  stones  tiung  upwards  to  the  sky, 
only  fell  back  on  the  heads  of  those  who  threw  them, 
ima  made  them  feel  conscious  of  their  own  meanness 
when  they  looked  on  the  unti-oubled  min'or  of  his  sanc- 
tity. 

Early  in  1616  he  brought  to  a  completion  his  greatest 
work,  the  famous  Treaiise  on  the  Lave  of  Goal    It  is 
a  book  which  possesses  an  mterest  i*e8embling  that  of 
the  heroic  actions  of  the  Saint,  much  of  it  having  been 
written,  not  like  ordinary  theological  works,  but  in 
actud  ecstasies  of  that  love  towards  God  of  which 
he  is  the  historian  and  the  teacher.    His  manuscript 
was  blotted  with  his  tears,  and  the  treatise  doubtless 
abounds  with  thoughts  directly  suggested  to  his  mind 
Ny  the  Holy  Spirit.    When  he  was  meditating  on  the 
ommencement  of  the  work,  on  March  26,  1614,  he 
ras  visited  by  this  inspuration,  manifesting  itself  even 
fisibly :  a  globe  of  fire  descended  on  him,  and  dividing 
itself  into  a  multitude  of  little  flames,  played  harm- 
lessly around  him,  and  rendered  his  face  radiant  like 
a  star.    His  brother,  Louis  de  Sales,  entered  the  room, 
just  when  this  manifestation  had  disappeared,  and  per- 
ceiving his  face  as  though  it  were  on  nre,  the  Saint,  in 
reply  to  his  startled  mquiries,  told  him,  trembling  all 
over,  what  had  occurred.    In  memory  of  this  event, 
Framcis  de  Sales  wrote  these  words  in  a  book  which  he 
•Iwayi  oanied  about  with  him :  Di$  vigetimd  pimtd 


U      t 


<  ' 


M^^,' 


Wi 


k' 


228  ST.  FRANOn  DB  SALSt. 

JSfartis,  hodie  iervwn  mvm  Francl^cum  wittmeorMtm 
vivtari  (h(jn/itiut  ext  Domimn.  The  TVeatute  on  ths 
Lave  of  God  is  ])erlians  little  read  in  this  country,  the 
common  translation  oeing  very  indiiferent,  and  the 
quaint  old  French  of  the  original  not  being:  very  easy 
to  ordinary  readers ;  but  a  greater  mine  of  ricn  and 
beautiful  thong'ltts  does  not  exist  in  the  devotional  lite- 
rature of  the  Cln;rcli.  This  treatise  was  also  sent  to 
James  I.  of  En<rland,  who,  as  we  have  already  men- 
tioned, expressed  the  highest  admiration  for  it,  and 
wished  he  could  see  the  holy  author.  When  this  was 
told  Francis  de  Sales,  he  sain,  with  all  the  fire  of  apos- 
tolic zeal,  **  Oh,  who  will  give  me  wings  like  the  dove, 
and  I  will  fly  to  the  king  into  that  fair  island,  once 
the  land  of  saints,  and  now  the  domain  of  error !  Ah, 
living  God,  if  the  prince  allows  me,  I  will  go  to  that 
new  mission :  I  will  speak  to  the  king,  and  preach  the 
truth  to  bim  at  the  peril  of  my  life !"  Had  tne  Apostle 
of  the  Chablais  been  enabled  to  carry  out  these  aspira- 
tions, who  knows  how  different  might  have  been  the 
face  of  thmgs  in  England  at  this  day ! 

In  the  Advent  of  1616  and  the  Lent  of  1617,  Fran- 
Ms  preached  at  Gh^noble  by  invitation  of  the  parliament 
uf  Dauphiny.  The  first  of  these  courses  was  attended 
by  a  remarkable  person,  the  Marshal  Duke  de  Lesdi- 
guidres,  then  governor  of  the  province, — one  of  those 
proud  and  stem  Calvinist  nobles  whose  stubbonmeBS  af- 
forded so  complete  a  parallel  to  that  of  the  Puritans  in 
Endand ;  yet  the  invincible  sweetness,  and  still  more 
perhaps  the  dignity  of  Francis,  produced  a  singular  im- 
pression on  the  haughty  old  marshal,  who  often  invited 
the  holy  bishopto  his  table,  and  delighted  to  hear  his 
conversation.  The  Calvinist  ministers  of  the  neighbour* 
hood  persuaded  a  nobleman  of  their  party  to  remon- 
strate with  the  duke  on  tl-is  dangerous  friendship ;  he 
made  t  most  characteristic  reply :  **  Tell  these  gentle- 
men,** he  said, ''  that  I  am  ola  enough  to  knowvhat  to 
do.  It  is  not  ibr  these  young  upstuls  to  teach  a  man 
•f  mj  agt  and  quality  haw  to  oondset  himself;  I  know 


CK.1.] 


n,  FlAirOXI  DM  f  ALU. 


19t 


how  bishops  oug^ht  to  be  treated;  t  is  very  difTeient 
with  ou'  ninistei's,  who  at  best  answer  to  tne  rank  of 
eureSf  since  they  have  rejected  the  episcopal  dig-nity, 
although  so  well-founded  in  Scripture :  wti«n  I  see  sove- 
reign princes,  the  sons  and  brothers  of  kin^s,  become 
ministers,  as  I  now  see  them  consider  it  a  distinction  to 
be  bishops,  archbishops,  and  cai'dinals,  I  shall  consider 
what  honour  I  am  to  pay  to  the  ministers."  Ulti- 
mately, in  1622,  the  duke  was  reconciled  to  the  Catholic 
Church ;  his  reason  had  long  been  convinced  by  the  ar- 
guments of  Fi'ancis,  but  he  could  not  be  persuaded  to 
break  off  a  connection  which,  as  in 'so  many  other 
cases,  had  far  more  to  do  with  his  hesitation  than  any 
controversial  difficulties.  Many  other  conversions  re- 
sulted fi'om  these  missions  at  Grenoble,  and  also  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  house  of  the  Visitation,  the  locality  fof 
which  was  selected  in  the  midst  of  the  wild  mountain- 
icenery  of  the  vicinity.  On  returning  from  his  second 
visit  to  Grenoble,  Fi'ancis  took  the  opportunity  of  stay- 
ing a  few  days  at  the  Grande  Chai'treuse,  where  tu< 
sternest  aspect  of  nature  harmonises  so  well  with  the 
penitential  lessons  tauo^ht  by  the  lives  of  the  simple  and 
noly  monks  who  dweU  there.  All  the  neighbourhood 
of  Grenoble,  thus  consecrated  by  the  footsteps  of  a 
Saint,  has  lately  become  the  chosen  home  of  a  tar  more 
intensa  devotion.  La  Salette,  the  scene  of  the  latest 
apparition  of  the  Queen  of  Saint?,  whither  the  eyes  of 
Catholics  are  now  turned  from  the  most  distant  comers 
of  the  world,  is  at  no  great  distance  frt>m  Grenoble. 

The  year  1617  was  marked  by  severe  afflictions  for 
the  affectionate  soul  of  Francis.  His  brother,  the  Baron 
ae  Thorens,  was  carried  off  by  feyer  whilst  with  the 
anny,  and  his  yoimg  widow,  the  daughter  of  M'ulame 
de  Chantal,  was  so  overwhelmed  with  the  bereavement, 
that  it  brought  on  a  prematui'e  confinement,  of  which 
she  (Ued :  though  having^  had  the  happiness  of  receiving 
the  last  Sacraments,  and  3f  being  invested  on  her  death- 
bed with  the  habit  of  the  Visitation. 


I  I 


•T.  FKAMOII  DK  SALJ 


I    ,!• 


Vl!      '<K 


m-\ 


IP' 


CHAPTSB  XL 
Tim  TO  rABn  with  thi  OABDnf  al  or  iatot— Lut  tiam  ov 

rilAMOU  DB  SALia. 

Tn  101 8  Francis  was  chosen  by  tho  Duke  of  Savoy  to 
icco^)pany  the  embassy  to  Paris  headed  by  the  cardi- 
nal-prince his  brother,  and  commissioned  to  negotiate 
the  maiTiag'e  of  his  son,  tlie  Prince  of  Piedmont,  with 
Cliiistine  of  France,  dauuhter  of  Ilciirvr  IV.,  and  sister 
of  Louis  XIIl.  If,  on  the  occasion  ol  his  former  visit, 
\\ie  astonishing  acliievement  of  converting  a  whole  pro- 
rince  from  heresy  to  Catliolicity  had  diivcted  towards  nim 
the  interest  of  all  Paiis,  fully  e(|ual  nas  the  admiration 
now  awaiting  him  as  the  autiior  of  the  Introductum 
and  tiie  treatise  On  th^  Love  of  Oody  which  great 
judges  did  not  hesitate  to  place  on  a  level  with  the 
works  of  the  Ambroses  and  Augustines,  The  negoti- 
ations of  the  embassy  hifted  for  nearly  a  year,  dunng 
vhich  Francis  rec«nvt'd  incessant  invitations  to  preach, 
which  he  did  ahnost  daily  :  the  people  never  tiring  of 
listening  to  him;  altliough  neither  his  elocution  nor  his 
style  was  such  as  might  liave  been  expected  to  attract 
tliose  highly-j)olished  audiences.  The  secret  lay  in  the 
exquisite  cbarm  of  Divine  gi'ace,  which  even  visibly 
rayed  out  from  him.  Tlie  ciiurches  were  so  crowdedf, 
that  it  more  tlian  once  happened  tha-t  a  ladder  had  tc  be 
brought  for  the  oreaeher  to  enter  bv  the  window,  the 
dooi-s  being  completely  blocked  up.  l*eople  ran  to  gaze 
at  him,  or  to  touch  his  robe  as  he  passed  in  the  streets; 
and  they  even  bribed  his  barber  to  give  them  his  hair 
to  keep  as  relics.  He  was  consulted  on  all  handb  by 
those  of  every  rank,  from  the  prince  down  to  the  capti\3 
H  the  dungeon,  who  were  in  difficulties  or  distress  oi! 
nind;  and  his  prudence  never  failed  to  remove  the 
ioubti  whi  ii  weighed  upon  them     Hii  unruffled  w^ 


«■.  XI.] 


ISi 


renity  was  lometimes  put  to  the  proof  by  impatincDt 
▼isitorsy  who,  with  that  rudeness  which  seems  insepa- 
rable from  heresy,  came  with  questions  they  imaf^ed 
would  embarrass  him ;  but  they  always  left  him  with 
respect  and  goodwill.  Among  the  leadin||^  |)ersons 
who  frequented  his  society,  we  must  not  omit  to  men- 
tion Vincent  of  Paul,  whom  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
styling  ^*  the  worthiest  priest  he  had  ever  known,** 
and  under  whose  direction  he  placed  a  community  of 
the  Visitation  which  he  established  in  Paiis.  Great 
efforts  wera  again  uiade  at  this  time  by  the  French 
court  to  induce  him  to  remain  in  France.  Cardinal 
de  Retz,  Bishop  of  Paris,  had  set  his  heart  on  having 
him  for  his  coadjutor,  and  offerad  him  a  rich  pension, 
the  entire  control  of  his  diocese,  and  the  appointment 
of  his  brother,  John  Francis  de  Sales,  to  succeed 
him  at  Geneva,  if  he  would  consent  to  come ;  but  all 
was  in  vain.  Notliing  but  the  will  of  God,  evidenced 
by  a  command  from  the  Holy  Father  himself,  would 
have  induced  Francis  de  Sales  to  quit  the  see  where 
Providence  had  originally  placed  him. 

The  negotiations  being  at  length  completed, — for 
which  result  the  diplomatists  were  in  a  greac  measure 
mdebted  to  the  tact  and  prudence  of  Francis, — the 
royal  marriage  was  celebrated,  and  the  embassy  quitted 
Paris.  Francis  de  Sales,  in  reward  for  his  services,  was 
complimented  with  the  office  of  grand  almoner  to  the 
Princess  of  Savoy,  which  he  only  accepced  on  condition 
of  not  being  asked  to  reside  out  of  his  diocese,  and  re- 
signed almost  immediately,  so  far  as  implied  any  active 
duties.  His  brother,  Jolm  Francis  de  Sales,  was  invited 
to  Turin  to  discharge  them  in  his  stead.  The  influence 
of  the  court  of  Savoy  soon  afterwards  obtained  from 
the  Holy  See  the  appointment  of  John  Francis  as  co- 
adjutor of  Geneva,  with  future  succession.  He  was 
consecrated  on  January  17th,  1621,  under  the  title  ol 
Bishop  of  Chalcedon ;  and  a^er  a  short  interval,  waa 
permitted  jy  the  court  of  Turin  to  undertake  his  autiei 
«t  Anneoj.    Frands  regularlj  educated  hii  broth* 


';  ■ 


I' 


ft 


r  ! 


;l^' 


J 


■,'  % 


1: 


'I 
P 


lis 


83  tr.  FlUHOIf  Dl  tALBt. 

for  the  offico  «»r  bishop,  both  forminf^  his  oharaota  and 

eommiinicatiDg^  to  him  those  wise  maxims  of  episoopal 
jf^overnmont,  of  the  nuithod  of  preuchiiif^,  and  ot  the  in- 
terpretation of  Scrinture,  and  nutting  him  in  possession 
of  those  stores  of  uetiiiled  information  about  the  state 
of  the  diocese,  which  he  had  accumidated  durinor  yean 
of  labour  and  vitnlance.  Every  day  he  devoted  some 
aom's  to  the  task  of  imparting  this  instruction ;  and 
thus,  long*  after  his  death,  the  spii'it  as  well  as  the 
name  of  tliis  ^eat  Saint  continued  to  rule  the  Church 
of  Geneva.  For  even  his  second  successor,  Charlea 
Augfuste,  was  a  member  of  the  house  of  Sales,  a 
nephew  and  disciple  of  the  Saint,  who  had  perceived 
in  his  early  youth  the  promise  of  unusual  noliness; 
and  having  taken  him  undt^r  his  special  charge  shortly 
before  his  death,  he  was  able  to  give  his  mind  that  en- 
during impress  which  a  gi'eat  man  needs  only  a  very 
short  space  of  time  to  convey. 

We  aue  now  drawing  to  the  close  of  his  career, 
lehicli,  full  of  activity  as  it  was  in  every  part  of  it,  was 
never  more  energetic  than  in  the  two  or  tliree  years  im- 
mediately preceding  his  death,  when  his  failing  health 
and  frame,  shattered  by  suc'i  incessant  toil,  would  have 
induced  any  one  else  to  take  repoF>e. 

Dming  the  yeara  1618-20,  he  made  several  tedious 
journeys,  and  undei-went  great  exertions,  in  order  to  re- 
estabhsh  discipline  in  the  abbey  of  Sixt,  a  community 
which  had  got  into  an  unsatisfactory  state,  and  on  which, 
at  an  eai-ly  period  of  his  episcopate,  he  had  bestowed  gi'eat 
pains ;  but  which  again  and  again  relapsed  into  its  for- 
mer relaxation.  During  one  of  his  visits  to  this  abbeyi 
he  wrou^b".  a  miracle  which  was  attested  by  six  witnesses 
in  fhe  processes  of  his  canonisation.  Great  numbers  of 
people  had  resoi'ted  to  the  place  to  ask  his  counsel,  as 
they  constantly  did ;  and  the  increased  consumption  of 
food  weighed  heavily  on  the  resources  of  the  abbey. 
Francis  prayed,  and  the  river  produced  such  a  supply 
of  fish  as  had  never  been  remembered  up  to  that  tune ; 
tktt  asnal  qvantitj  ef  fam^  baked  for  the  comniuu^ 


om.  zi.j 


•T.  FRANCIS  DB  8ALBI. 


188 


II  Mad 

Mopal 
he  in- 
lesBion 
I  state 
yean 
some 
;  and 
as  the 
yhuroh 
/harlei 
lies,  a 
iceived 
liness ; 
shortly 
lat  en- 
a  very 

career, 
it,  was 
ars  im- 
health 
d  have 

tedious 
tore- 
munity 
which, 
dgi*eat 
its  for- 
abbey, 
tnesses 
hereof 
Qsel,  as 
>tion  of 
abbey, 
supply 

tune; 

luo^y 


foficed  for  the  ndditionnl  mouth?,  and  the  cask  of  wine 
from  which  they  drew  for  ull  the  strangers  sustained  no 
increas(M)  diniinution. 

In  1020  he  enacted  constitutions  for  the  hprmitagre 
of  Mont  Voiron,  a  lioly  institute  which  had  Um<^  flou- 
rished on  the  north  of  the  Luke  of  Geneva,  till  Gtilvinist 
baibai'ity  had  overthi'own  it.  Several  devout  religious, 
and  among  them  one  named  Rig'aud,  who  had  adopted 
the  eremitical  life  after  havin}^  been  many  years  ac- 
tively engag-ed  in  the  political  world,  restored  the  as- 
sociations of  the  place,  and  besought  Francis  de  Sales 
eo  devise  a  rule  for  them.  This  he  accomplished  with 
his  usual  pnidence,  and  was  accordingly  considered  as 
♦ihe  founder  of  the  congi'ejration. 

In  1621  he  was  engag-ed  in  the  business  of  negoti- 
dting  a  reform  in  a  convent  of  Bemardine  nuns,  at  St. 
Catherine's,  near  Annecy.  It  proved  a  tedious  and 
difficult  undertaking,  h-om  the  opposition  of  the  abbess, 
who  headed  a  pai'iy  in  the  community  opposed  to  re- 
formation. As  usual  in  such  case«,  this  party  sup- 
ported itself  by  the  civil  power.  The  holy  bishop's 
correspondence  about  this  simple  affair  reaciied  above 
a  hunared  lettere.  The  matter  at  length  ended  in  the 
tbundation  of  a  separate  convent  for  the  nuns  who  were 
miiuus  to  live  up  to  the  rule.  Francis  de  Sales  drew 
ap  constitutions  for  them;  and  the  reformed  institute 
beeame  a  flourishing  stock,  from  which  several  oom- 
oiunities  branched  on*. 

One  of  the  last  public  proceedings  of  the  Saint,  and 
which,  from  the  circumstances  attending  it,  derived  a 
peculiarly  touching  interest,  was  the  translation  of  the 
•elics  of  St.  Germain  from  the  nave  to  the  high  altar 
of  the  abbey  of  Talloires.  This  is  a  beautifiil  spot  near 
the  lake  oi  Annecy,  wherf*  were  the  ruins  of  the  her- 
mitage of  St.  Germain,  winch  Francis  had  caused  to  be 
lebuilt.  At  the  ceremony  of  the  translation  he  spoke  at 
treat  length  on  the  devotion  inculcated  by  the  Church 
E>r  saints  and  relics,  and  on  the  virtues  of  the  holy 
'"  whoM  tbodi^  Ifiid  waste  hy  haretiad  fiolno^ 


I   '/ 


M     i 


i^Nli-'l: 


184  ST.  FRANCIS  1}B  SALBt. 

he  had  piously  repaired.    When  all  was  over,  he  yiriied 
the  hermitage,  and  g^ed  with  delicrht  on  the  exqu- 
lite  prospect  around  him,  the  calm  lake  and  the  over- 
hanging mountains,  and  his  own  heloved  Uttle  city  of 
Annecy  in  the  distance.    He  said  that,  if  it  were  our 
Lord's  will,  he  should  wish  to  come  there,  to  enjoy  an 
interval  of  rest ;  he  would  leave  the  burden  and  heat  of 
the  day  to  his  coadjutor,  and  with  his  rosary  and  his 
pen  he  would  serve  God  and  the  Church  in  that  peaoe> 
ml  hermitage.    "  What  a  delicious  site  !**  he  exclaimed, 
with  the  feeling  no  less  of  a  poet  than  a  saint.    **  How 
great  and  beautiful  thoughts  will  fall  around  us,  thick 
and  soft,  as  the  snows  come  down  in  wi  iter !"    It  was 
not  a  uassing  fancy,  but  apparently  a  sett-nl  plan,  which 
he  haa  iiilly  maturec^  in  his  mind.    He  gave  orders  the 
same  day  to  the  prior  of  Talloires  to  have  five  or  siy 
oells  built  for  him,  and  announced  his  intention  to  sel 
tie  there  as  soon  as  he  could  arrange  to  transfer  thi 
diocese  to  his  brother.    **  And  then/'  he  said,  ''we  wiO 
serve  God  with  the  breviary,  the  rosary,  and  the  pen; 
we  shall  enjoy  a  holy  leisure  to  trace  out  for  the  glory 
of  God  and  tne  instruction  of  souls  what  I  have  oeeo 
turning  over  in  my  mind  these  thirty  years  and  more, 
and  which  I  have  used  in  my  sermons,  mstructions.  ana 
meditations ;  I  have  abundance  of  materials,  and  be> 
sides,  God  will  inspire  me.    Oh^  who  will  give  me  the 
wings  of  a  dove,  to  fly  into  this  sacred  desert,  and 
breathe  awhile  under  the  shadow  of  the  Gross  f*    He 
had  in  his  mind  plans  enough  to  have  occupied  more 
than  a  life-time.    There  was  to  be  a  history  of  Jesus 
Christ  in  four  books ;  the  first,  a  sort  of  diatessaron,  or 
harmony  of  the  four  gospels ;  the  second,  a  treaf  ise 
on  the  evidences,  drawn  from  the  words  of  our  Lord  in 
the  gospel ;  the  tliii'd,  on  the  Christian  virtues,  as  set 
forth  in  the  gospel ;  the  fourth,  a  history  of  the  primitive 
Church,  drawn  from  the  Acts  of  the  A|M)stles ;  oesides  a 
similar  work  on  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul.    Then  another 
treatise,  supposing  all  this  completed,  **  on  the  love  of 
«nr  Mighbour«"  woild  have  sanred  u  the  pmkiaiU  to 


«■.  ZI.j 


•T.  PRANOIS  DB  SALBl. 


1» 


his  great  work  on  the  Love  of  Ood.  Lastly,  in  a  fflriet 
of  letters  on  the  Pastoral  Office,  he  would  nave  thrown 
together  the  results  of  his  vast  and  unexampled  ex> 
perience  as  a  missionary-priest  and  bishop.  It  was,  of 
course,  obvious  that,  even  if  yf^itrs  of  health  had  been 
still  afforded  him,  these  designs  were  too  vast  for  him  to 
expect  to  accomplish  them.  Of  this  he  was  perfectly 
conscious;  but  he  remarked,  with  profound  practical 
wisdom,  that  "  to  give  scope  to  the  activity  of  the 
mind,  we  ought  to  form  designs  as  great  as  if  we  had 
a  long  hfe  before  us,  but  not  to  reckon  on  doing  more 
than  if  we  had  to  die  to-morrow."  The  only  part  of 
his  designs  which  the  holy  bishop  was  enabled  in 
some  degree  to  accomplish,  was  the  superintendence 
of  the  education  of  his  nephew  and  future  successor 
Charles  Augiiste  de  Sales,  whose  residence  in  the  house 
hold  and  under  the  care  of  the  holy  prelate  diudng  tbf 
last  twelvemonth  of  his  Ufe  gave  him,  as  we  have  alreadl 
mentioned,  impressions  which  were  never  obliterated, 
and  were  the  means  of  his  worthily  keening  up,  both 
by  imitating  and  by  writing  tlie  life  of  ins  uncle,  those 
heroic  virtues  which  became  almost  the  hereditary  pos* 
session  of  his  race. 

In  May  1622  he  was  commissioned  by  the  Holy 
See  to  pi'eside  at  a  chanter  of  the  order  of  Feuillants, 
held  at  Pignerol,  there  oeing  at  the  time  considerable 
disputes  in  the  order  relative  to  the  election  of  a  general, 
on  which  they  were  unable  to  agree.  By  the  address 
and  chanty  of  Francis  these  dissensions  were  haupily 
appease«i,  and  harmony  restijrtni.  The  exertions,  Mow- 
ever,  which  he  went  throu«j;h  in  mannging  this  difficult 
affiiir  were  more  tlmn  his  strength  was  adequate  to  sus- 
tain. He  was  now  fifty-ibur  years  of  age,  and  the  infir- 
mities of  age  began  to  weigh  heavily  on  liim.  He  suf- 
fered greatly  from  weakness  of  the  chest,  violent  pains 
in  the  head  and  stomach,  swelling  and  inflammation  of 
the  legs, — all  these  symutoras  indicating  a  general  break- 
op  in  uis  constitution,  i  el  he  still  held  on, — the  eneivj 
tthi••01lIn■iI^j;aup•rior  to  thadiMjd  tilt  body.  Oi 


1 


■;|. 


i.# 


m^'    .  •  li 


mm  1 


v>  ■  I  ■        y       I  ■      ] 
'  '      '     i      i' 


fr.  VRAirOTt  VB  f Allt. 

(eayinf  Pi;  erol  he  visited  Turin,  whither  he  wm  is* 
vited  by  the>  iouit.  Tliere  he  stayed  a  short  time,  lodfl^- 
Uig"  in  a  small  and  stiHing-  cell  in  tiie  monasteiy  of  the 
Feuillants;  thou}^li  handsome  accommodation  was  eag-erly 
offered  him  on  all  sides.  The  arcliljislionric  of  Turin 
having-  fallen  vacant,  that  rich  and  sj)leiidi(l  appointment 
was  pressed  upon  liim  in  vain.  He  wished  to  hasten 
his  return  to  Annecy,  as  a  scarcity  was  prevailing"  in 
the  country  which  ho  hoj)ed  to  relievo.  The  court  at 
length  unwillingly  let  him  go ;  and  on  his  departure  the 
Princess  of  Piedmont  presented  him  with  a  magfnificent 
diamond  ring^  of  the  value  of  3000  fi'ancs.  He  accepted 
it  g'ladly  for  the  sake  of  his  ])oor  people ;  and  he  was  no 
sooner  in  Annecy  than  he  pawned  it  to  the  jewellei*s,  in 
order  to  ohtain  the  means  of  carrying"  on  his  charities. 
Tlie  ring  was  speedily  redeemed  hj  his  fiiends,  and  re- 
turned to  him ;  and  he  would  agiun  ])ut  it  in  pawn,  till 
t  became  a  proverb  in  the  town,  much  Uke  tlie  snuff- 
foxes  and  watches  which,  in  our  own  days,  are  puied 
H  eharitable  circulation  from  one  n£le  to  inotlMT. 


\ 


.•^•^ 


I 


«■  Zll.]  tr.  FBANCIl  DB  BkLWk 


W 


CHAFTEB  Xn. 


nuTB  or  nANon  di  iauhl 


Towards  the  close  of  the  year,  he  was  invited  by  rji« 
Duke  of  Savoy  to  attend  him  at  Avig^ion,  whei'e  he  was 
to  meet  Louis  XIII.,  in  order  to  congratulate  that  prince 
on  his  successes  against  the  Huguenot  faction.    Fi-ancis 
had  a  presentiment  that  this  journey  would  be  hif  last ; 
but  he  did  not  think  it  right  to  decline  the  invitation  of 
his  sovereign,  es])ecially  as  it  was  hkely  to  afford  him 
the  opportimity  of  negotiating  for  the  mterests  of  reh 
gion.  Accordingly  he  made  preparation,  with  the  utmost 
taknness,  as  if  he  were  to  retm'n  no  more.    He  made  his 
Krill,  changing  them  to  bury  him  in  the  nave  of  the 
Church  01  the  Visitation  at  Annecy ;  but  if  he  died  out 
of  his  diocese,  leaving  the  place  of  his  sepulture  at  the 
choice  of  those  who  snould  attend  him  at  the  time.    He 
jmited  the  adornments  of  his  funeral  to  thirteen  candles, 
md  would  have  no  other  escutcheons  than  the  holy  Name 
of  Jesos.  On  November  7th,  he  made  his  general  confes- 
■ion,  and  in  the  afternoon  handed  to  his  brother  and  co- 
adjutor a  mass  of  papers  relatinjo:  to  the  business  of  the 
diocese ;  after  which  he  said  cnoerfully,  that  he  seemed 
to  rest  on  earth  with  one  foot  only,  the  other  was  raised 
in  the  air,  and  ready  to  go.    On  November  8th,  he  bade 
farewell  to  his  relatives  and  friends,  to  the  canons,  and 
to  hif  dear  community  of  the  Visitation,  for  which  he 
had  thougnt  and  toiled  so  much.    One  of  them,  an  in- 
nocent and  holy  soul,  Sister  SimpUcienne,  had  foretold 
that  he  would  not  outlive  the  year.     As  he  parted 
with  another  of  them.  Sister  Anne-Jacqueline  Coste,  she 
wept  as  she  had  never  done  before  on  any  of  his  jour* 
Dm*    When  he  asked  her  why  was  this,  she  saidTthat 


1l 


<■• 


1^11 


HI 


IfvJ 


188  BT,  FRANCIS  DE  8A!Bf. 

F^oiSy  who,  in  the  spirit  of  prophecy,  foresaw  that  thr 
good  Sister  herself  was  not  destined  lorg  tc  survive  him, 
replied  that  his  heart  also  told  him  tLttt  thej  would  sef 
^ach  other  muoh  sooner  than  she  thought. 

On  the  9th  of  Novemher  he  set  out  on  his  journey, 
amidst  the  tears  of  the  whole  city,  and  proceeded  to 
Avi^on  by  way  of  Belley  and  Lyons.  At  Lyons  a 
trifling  incideL't.  happened,  which  is  worth  relating  as 
an  example  of  his  sweet  and  gentle  demeanour.  As  he 
was  going  on  board  the  boat,  the  boatman  refused  to 
receive  him  frii'iout  his  passport.  When  his  attendants 
were  angry  at  the  delay,  the  oishop  remarked,  **  Let  him 
alone ;  he  Knows  his  business  of  boatman,  and  fulfils  it : 
we  don't  know  that  of  travellers."  He  had  to  wait  an 
hour  for  the  passport  under  a  bitterly  cold  wind,  but 
showed  a  calnmess  which  diiiiised  itselfover  his  irritated 
followers.  When  at  last  they  got  on  board,  he  went 
and  sat  next  the  boatman  who  had  been  so  tiresome, 
obscrvmg,  **  I  wish  to  maka  friends  with  this  good  man, 
and  to  talk  to  him  a  little  of  our  Lord.*' 

A  similar  example  of  the  manners  of  tLs  Chrisdan 
traveller  occurred  on  their  arrival  at  Avignon.  The  city 
bemg  crowded  with  the  retinue  of  the  two  «H>urt8  oi 
France  and  Savoy,  Francis  and  his  company  coidd  find 
no  room  at  the  first  hotel  at  which  they  applied,  and 
had  to  go  on  foot  to  another  through  torrents  of  rain. 
The  holy  bishop,  as  he  went  along,  catechised  the  poor 
man  who  served  ai»  their  guide ;  and  when  they  [mrted 
at  the  door  of  the  hotel,  said  he  would  remember  hir^i 
next  day  at  the  Holy  Sacrifice.  Tf  we  consider  all  the 
circumstances,  his  scattered  health  and  lameness,  and 
the  great  fatigue  he  had  underg-one,  equanimity  Hke 
this  will  appear  so  unusif«i'  as  to  deserve  a  record  in  a 
£fe  every  action  of  whlca  was  ':croic. 

At  Avignon  he  held  aloof  from  all  the  magnificence 
which  the  reunion  of  two  courts  in  that  splendid  age 
•o  lavishly  displayed.  He  would  not  even  go  to  tne 
wmdow  to  look  at  the  triumphant  entry  of  Louis  XIII. 
ttd  tht  two  qiujtn%  Maim  d«  liadioi  Mid  Anoe  d 


€B,  XII.' 


IT.  FRANCIS  liJI  tALBf. 


ram. 

poor 

|)Arted 

Irhi?^ 

lithe 

and 

hke 

in  a 


Anetria.  He  spent  liis  time  in  prayer,  in  conference 
with  religious  persons,  and  in  yisitmff  the  vaiious  places 
of  devo^oa  in  the  city.  On  Novemoer  26th,  the  royal 
fisitors  quitting  Avignon,  Francis  accompanied  their 
train.  When  they  arrived  at  Lyons,  offers  of  hospi* 
tality  poured  in  upon  him  from  various  quarters ;  bu^ 
he  insisted  on  taking  a  little  room  in  the  nouse  of  tL« 
gardener  of  the  Convent  of  the  Visitation.  It  was  a 
comfortless  place,  being  full  of  draughts,  and  with  a 
smoky  chimney.  Francis,  however,  maintained  that  it 
would  suit  him  quite  well,  and  that  he  wished  to  be 
away  from  the  noise  of  the  court. 

Here  was  held  the  last  interview  between  Jane 
Frances  de  Chantal  and  her  holy  director.  She  had 
been  visiting  the  convents  of  her  order  at  Dijon  and 
elsewhere,  and  came  to  Lyons  to  advise  with  Imn. 
With  difficulty  he  found  time  to  receive  her,  such  was 
the  press  of  people  who  besieged  him  for  covnsel  and 
consolation.  When,  however,  ne  at  length  was  enabled 
io  release  himself,  the  first  thing  he  asked  her  was. 
srhioh  of  the  two  should  begin  to  speak,  as  they  had 
oat  a  few  hours  at  liberty.  Madame  de  Chantal,  anxious 
to  tell  him  of  her  spiritual  affairs,  said :  **  I,  if  you 
please,  father ;  my  heart  has  great  need  of  being  rr - 
vised  by  you."  He  gently  ^proved  her  eagerness,  as 
contrary  to  his  favourite  lesson  of  avoiding  all  excited 
feelings,  all  self-will.  M»dame  de  Chantal  at  once  shut 
up  the  memoranda  she  had  pi'ej)ared  about  the  state 
of  her  soul  durir*'  the  three-and-a-half  yea^  which  had 
elapsed  since  she  last  had  seen  the  Saint;  and  she 
opened  instead  of  them  her  pai)ers  about  the  Institute. 
They  talked  of  it  for  four  hours,  and  Francis  dc  Sales 
gave  her  his  last  instructions  for  the  government  of  his 
order;  in  paiticular  insisting  that  they  should  never 

Elace  themselves  under  the  management  of  a  General, 
ut  always  be  subject  to  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese 
where  they  were  placed.  He  then  commanded  her  to 
visit  some  convents  he  mentioned,  and  dismissed  hsr 
With  hu  Uissingi  to  msst  no  mors  in  this  liis 


II 


r 


140 


ST.  FRANCIS  DB  SALES. 


,■  1. 


14  ri 


km  nut 


f 


'■;>(    '.ll 


I  1 


Among  the  persons  of  distinction  who  frequenteo 
the  society  of  Francis  at  the  closing  jieiiod  of  hif 
life  was  Jacoues  Oher,  one  of  the  liigh  magistracy  oi 
Lyons,  and  father  of  the  Jean-Jacques  OUer  who  after 
wards  bticame  so  famous  as  the  founder  of  St.  Sulpice. 
The  itter  was  at  this  time  still  a  child,  and  afforded 
no  jrrise  of  his  future  holine^s,  being  exceedingly 
self-v/illed  and  unmanageable.  Yet  Francis  de  Sales 
predicted,  with  the  utmost,  confidence,  that  Almighty 
God  had  chosen  him  for  the  advantage  and  glory  of 
the  Church,  and  he  bade  his  parents  change  their  iears 
into  acts  of  thanksgiving. 

There  seemed  to  be  an  impression  amongst  all  that 
his  end  was  approaching,  and  his  iiiends  openly  ez- 

fressed  "^.o  him  their  belief  that  he  would  be  canonised 
it  did  not  disclaim  this,  his  humility  being  such  as  nok 
to  be  weakened  by  a  consciousness  of  his  own  saintli- 
ness,  unlike  many  others  from  whom  such  knowledge 
has  been  withheld.  A  lady  of  the  court,  whom  he  met 
at  the  Princess  of  Soissons',  said :  "  Really,  my  lord, 
if  you  wei-e  in  red  robes,  one  would  take  you  for  St 
Cmffles."  He  replied :  *^  Madame,  it  is  of  little  use  to 
haye  red  robes ;  but  it  would  be  yery  desirable  to  be  s 
St.  Charles  in  one's  works,  if  not  in  one* s  dress."  A 
Jesuit  father,  in  conyersation  with  him,  speaking  of 
the  different  charactei-istics  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  St. 
Francis  of  Paul,  and  St.  Francis  Xayier,  he  exclaimed : 
**  Yes,  either  it  will  cost  me  my  life,  or  I  shall  one  day 
be  a  fourth  St.  Francis." 

It  now  drew  near  Christmas ;  and  in  spite  of  his 
sufferings,  he  had  been  toiling  in  his  apostohc  ministry 
with  eztitiordinary  energy,  preaching  wherever  he  was 
asked.  He  said  his  Midnight-Mass  at  the  Church  of 
tne  Visitation,  and  preached  on  the  Nativity  with  a 
feryour  wmch  surprised  all  who  heard  him.  The  Mdre 
de  Blonay  was  so  struck  by  it,  that  she  yentm'ed  to 
ask  him  if  he  had  no^^  received  some  special  ?race  at 
the  Mass,  remarking  that  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
bahald  (ha  arahan^  Gabrial  at  his  lids  whan  hf  i» 


\s 


"1  .: 


.  »!.] 


w 


•T.  FRANCIS  DM  BALBl.  141 

toned  the  Gloria  in  axcehns.    Ho  did  not  deny  that  he 
had  heard  with  his  eai's  the  holv  melody  of  the  antrels, 
and  had  seen  with  his  eyes  the  iDivine  Infant  and  those 
blessed  s])irits  surrounding'  Him.     He  then  heard  the 
confession  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Piedmont, 
and  said  the  '^  Aurora"  Mass  for  them  in  the  Dominican 
church.     He  then  heai'd  three  other  Masses,  and  did 
not  say  his  own  third  Mass  till  near  mid-day,  after 
which  he  dined,  and  then  g'ave  the  habit  to  two  novices 
of  the  Visitation,  preached  at  the  ceremony,  gave  them 
a  conference,  received  several  visitors,  and  afterwards 
waited  on  the  Queen  Marie  de  Medicis,  who  was  to 
leave  Lyons  the  next  day.   Yet  he  was  actually  a  dying 
man  when  he  thus  crowded  such  astonishing  exertions 
into  one  day.    Next  day,  the  Feast  of  St.  Stephen,  he 
bade  his  last  farewell  to  the  nuns  of  the  Visitation,  and 
spoke  to  then   ^or  nearly  two  hours,  chiefly  on  Divine 
love,  on  confess,  ^n  and  communion,  repeating  much  of 
those  practical  lessons  by  which  he  throughout  his  life 
had  imparted  to  so  many  minds  the  means  of  obtaining 
serenity  and  repose.     It  gi'cw  late,  and  his  servants 
came  with  torches  to  light  him  to  his  house.   Obedience 
called  him,  he  said,  and  he  must  go.    The  Superioress 
asked  him,  before  he  departed,  to  tell  them  what  he 
wished  should  remain  most  deeply  engraven  in  their 
hearts.   "  My  dear  daughter,"  replied  the  dying  bishop, 
''  desire  nothing^  re/\  oe  TwtMng.    Enough  is  said  m 
that  word."    And  he  illustrated  it  by  the  example  of 
the  Infant  Jesus  in  the  crib,  receiving  poverty,  and 
nakedness,  and  cold,  without  stretching  forth  His  hands 
to  ask  for  any  thing;  leaving  Himself  entirely  to  the 
care  of  His  Mother,  yet  not  refusing  her  alleviatinns, 
nor  those  of  St.  Joseph,  nor  the  adoration  of  the  kings; 
yet  all  with  an  equal  indifference.    "  But,  my  lord," 
said  one  of  the  nuns,  ^'  ought  one  to  warm  oneself  when 
one  feels  very  cold?'*  The  simplicity  of  the  question 
only  brings  out  with  the  greater  clearness  the  depth  and 
practical  wisdom  of  his  answer :  **  When  the  fire  is  lit^" 
M  tv^M^  ^W6  Me  that  obedienoe  iatmdf  om  to  warn 


'0,  ' 


5  i 


I' 


t 


il';..  ;»«■. 

WW- 

mhmm 


149      '  ST.  f  RANOIS  DB  tALBli 

MMMlf,  providetl  it  be  not  done  with  too  gieat  eagw^ 
MM.*'  Thus  in  hifl  last  words  he  expressed  the  great 
mauifi  which  he  preached  thi'ou{:>;hout  his  life,  to  avoid 
tmpreiAnmentf  to  observe  a  certain  holy  equality  and 
serenity  of  mind,  to  accept  and  to  do  wito  calmness  and 
thankfulness  what  Divine  Providence  intends  for  us  at 
the  moment;  and  to  avoid  that  tiurry,  that  iiaste,  that 


/ 

/ 


of  Truth. 

Next  morning'  was  the  Feast  of  St  John  the  Evan- 
(,elist.  He  felt  his  sight  weaker  when  he  rose,  and 
remai'ked  to  his  utt^naants  it  was  a  symptom  of  his 
departure.  He  confes.<H$d,  said  Mass,  and  gave  com- 
munion to  the  nuns.  The  Superioress  noticed  his  altered 
looks ;  he  only  observed  that  every  thing  tiuns  out  well 
to  those  who  love  God,  and  in  gfiving  tier  his  blessinff 
said,  "  Adieu,  my  daughter ;  I  leave  you  my  spirit  ana 
my  heait."  Outside  the  churcli  he  talked  tor  some 
time  with  the  Duke  of  Bellegarde  and  another  noble- 
man. It  was  cold  and  foggy,  and  he  felt  a  chill,  ic 
spite  of  which  he  went  on  to  call  on  the  Prince  of  Pied- 
mont. By  the  time  he  got  home  he  was  excessively 
fatigued  and  ill;  but  sat  down  to  write  lettei-s,  and  re- 
ceived several  visitors.  On  their  departure  his  servant 
came  in,  and  began  to  tell  him  about  a  sei'mon  he  had 
been  hearing,  in  which  the  preacher  exhorted  the  queen 
to  love  her  servants.  Francis,  Uke  our  Lord,  said, 
"  And  you,  do  you  love  me  well  ?"  The  good  servant 
could  not  speak  for  weeping.  The  Saint  continued: 
**  And  I,  too,  love  you  well;  but  let  us  love  God  more^ 
Krho  is  our  Great  Master."  As  he  said  these  words  h« 
fainted  away;  and  an  apoplexy  soon  Lfter  came  on,  with 
lymptoms  of  the  most  alarming  kind.  He  was  removed 
to  bed,  and  remedies  adopted  in  order  to  rouse  him. 
He  retained  his  consciousness,  and  frequently  repeated 
Ihe  acts  of  faith,  hope,  charity,  and  contrition.  Ha 
Md^iuipco&MioBoffidth^aiidtfW  it  «ud,<'Iwiik 


I.  ZII.J 


ST.  PRANOIS  DB  SALIt. 


148 


10  die  in  the  faith  of  the  Church  Catholic,  apmtoKc  ano 
Roman,  the  >  >nly  good  ren^on ;  so  I  swear  it  and  I 
{nrofess  it."  in  tlie  course  of  the  day  he  confessed,  and 
asked  to  receive  Extreme  Unction,  wiiich  they  gave  him 
aoout  one  o'clock  in  the  morning;  but  without  the  Via- 
ticum,  in  consequence  of  his  sicluiess.  He  then  made 
them  place  his  chaplet  on  his  aim,  and  blest  medals 
were  attached  to  it,  which  he  had  brought  from  Rome 
and  Loretto.  Next  morning'  he  received  several  visitors, 
the  Bishop  of  DamascuR,  the  Duke  of  Nemom's,  and 
Madame  OUer  and  her  children. 

His  foimer  director,  Father  Forrier,  having  afked 
aim  if  he  remembered  !  ira,  he  replied,  **  Si  ohlitvs 
fwro  tuif  oblivioni  detu  dextera  mea:"  "  If  I  forget 
ehee,  let  my  right  hand  be  forgotten."  The  good  priest 
invited  him  to  say,  like  St.  Martin,  "  Lord,  if  I  am 
still  necessary  to  Thy  people,  1  rctiise  not  the  labour." 
The  Saint,  in  reply,  repealed  thrice,  "  Serws  inntitU, 
inutiliSf  inutilig :  "  A  useless  servant,  useless,  useless." 
He  seems  to  have  replied  to  almost  every  question  in 
the  words  of  Scripture,  generally  the  Psalms.    Fre- 

3uently  he  uttered  that  passage  ot'tlie  Canticles :  "  /»- 
wa  mihiy  dilecte  miy  uoi  pa^ns  et  cubes  in  meridis:** 
**  Show  me,  0  Thou  when,  my  soul  loveth,  where  Thoc 
ftiedcst,  where  Thou  liest  in  the  mid-day." 

The  symptoms,  however,  got  worse  :  he  constantly 
mlapsed  into  drowsiness ;  and  to  remove  this,  the  phy- 
ficians  resorted  to  all  the  expedients  used  in  the  bar- 
barous surgery  of  that  age;  not  only  blisters  on  the 
head,  but  the  application  of  a  lot  iron  to  tlie  na})e  of  the 
neck,  and  even  of  an  instiiiment  shaped  hke  a  button, 
heuted  red-hot,  and  pressed  on  the  crown  of  his  head 
till  it  was  burnt  to  the  very  bone.  The  saintly  patient 
bore  all  this  cruel  torture  with  the  most  perfect  ^erenitv, 
tallmgon  the  dear  names  of  Jesus  and  Mttry.  As  might 
be  expected,  he  gradually  sunk  after  sufferings  so  excru- 
natmg ;  yet  the  few  words  he  still  uttered  were  all  ol 
them  worthy  of  record.  A  nu .:  who  was  in  attendance, 
thinkinf  to  gntiff  his^  tokl him  hiifaroth«|  tbt  ^'-^— 


t 


] 


» 


F   I 


1 


I'.f 


III'  <•■ '    '   ■    -  ■ 


Ilil|i^3| 


144 


IT.  FRANOIt  0«  SALVa. 


of  Chaleedon,  kad  arrived,  vbich  was  not  trae.  Ha 
mid  to  her,  *  My  sister,  o*ie  should  never  tell  lies." 
^Vhen  asked  if  he  was  not  so  ry  1o  pait  with  his  daugh- 
ters of  the  Visitation,  just  w)i02i  the  institution  was  at 
its  commencemeni,  he  said  thnci!,  **  Quictrpit  op\u^  ipse 
petficiet,  peiificiety  perfUnet'"  "  He  who  hath  begun  the 
work  will  peifect  it,  will  pc  rfeut  it,  will  perfect  it ;" 
words  whicn  he  repeated,  afte*  nn  interval,  when  he  wai 
asked  whether  he  did  not  fear  V)  be  vannuished  in  the 
last  combat.  Then  turning  to  a  friend,  ana  grasping  hie 
hand,  h  3  said,  ^'  Advesperascitf  et  inclinata  est  jam  me$:** 
**  It  is  towards  evening,  and  t  le  lay  is  now  far  spent." 
Then,  after  uttering  the  Name  of  Jesus,  he  lost  the  power 
of  speech,  the  faint  movement  oi  lips  and  eyes  still  in- 
dicating that  his  soul  was  in  prayer.  Those  present  now 
knelt  down,  and  recited  the  'Mtet^ommendation  for  a  de- 
parting soul.''  When  they  cam )  to  the  invocation, ''  Om 
nes  Saneti  InnocenteSyOrate  pro  «<?,"  "All  ye  Holy  Inno 
cents,  pray  for  him,"  they  i  ^ated  it  twice,  in  honour  ol 
the  festival.  At  the  third  v  vc4;ation  he  breathed  forth 
his  innocent  soul  with  the  utn^out  tranquillity  and  sweet- 
ness, dying  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  on  the  Feast 
of  the  Hdy  Innocents,  December  2dth,  1622,  in  the 
fiffy-f.ixth  year  of  his  age  and  the  twentieth  of  his  ejMs- 
eopate. 

His  death  was  siinematurally  made  known  on  the 
lame  day  to  several  of  nis  friends  at  a  distance.  Madame 
de  Chantal,  whilst  praying  for  him,  heard  an  interior 
voice  saying  to  her,  "  He  is  no  more;"  words  which  at 
the  time  she  took  to  signify  his  Hfe  being  absorbed  in 
God.  Charles  Auguste  de  Sales  had  been  so  afflicted 
at  his  departure,  that  he  fell  sick  **>r>  was  believed  to 
be  past  recovery.  On  the  Feast  o^  ^ne  Holy  Innocents, 
however,  a  sweet  sleep  sudden)*'  came  on  him,  during 
which  he  dreamed  that  the  bisc'vj  had  come  from  Lyons 
to  bless  and  to  heal  him.  On  waking,  he  exclaimed 
that  his  uncle  wa£>  dead.  A  holy  pnest  at  Annecy, 
whilst  oelebrating  Mats,  saw  the  fkoe  of  Francis  de  Sales 
iiimNuid«i  with  raji^  ind  Iomw  ia  hit  own  mind  that 


1"  5  ? 


M'^i'-il'B^ 


I.  m.] 


tr.  vmiiien  »i  tin 


14i 


he  hHcl  dflp«rt«d ;  and  the  lame  reveUtJon  waf  made  in 
Noel  Perf^ord,  an  advocate  at  the  comt  of  Chamheryy  in 
ft  drnam,  in  which  he  l)ehelii  a  dove  of  dazzling^  wtiite- 
ness  hover  round  him,  when  he  heard  a  voice  say,  "  I 
maj  not  toucli  tlie  earth  any  long^er^*  and  the  do?e 
immediately  flew  towards  the  sky.  Other  holy  sculf 
had  similar  revelations. 

When  the  bo<iy  of  the  holy  prelate  was  opened  to 
be  embalmed,  the  opemtors  found  in  the  gall,  which 
was  completely  dried  up,  a  great  quantity   of  small 
stones,  some  round  and  others  tnanfrular,  hen))ed  toc^e- 
ther  in  the  form  of  a  ctmplet.     The  physicians  ascrifjed 
this  phenomenon  to  the  constant  violence  he  had  used 
in  surMiuinir  his  an^rer,  to  which  pussion  he  was  naturally 
inclined,    ilis  he<ui,  after  being-  placed  in  a  silver  coifer, 
was  given  to  the  Church  of  the  Visitation  at  Lyons. 
His  Inxly,  after  some  opitosition  raised  by  the  authori- 
ties of  Lyons,  was  liroug'tit  to  Annecy,  where  it  was  re- 
ceived by  the  whole  population  with  extraordinary  vene- 
ration.    It  was  magniHcently  enshrined  in  the  llhurch 
of  the  Visitation,  and  has  ever  since  lieen  considered  the 
ehoicest  nossessiim  of  the  city.     At  the  time  of  the  firat 
French  Revolution,  when  churches  in  almost  all  quarters 
of  France  and  the  adjoining  countries  were  ransacked 
by  the  impious  and  sacrileg-ious  hands  of  the  inridels, 
some  devout  Catholics,  to  giiard  against  the  dan^-er  of 
these  holy  relics  heinfi;  insulted,  secretly  removed  them 
from  their  tomb,  leaving  another  bo<ly  in  the  silver 
shrine  instead  of  him, — a  proceeding-  which  may  be  used 
in  illustration  of  the  well-known  controversy  about  the 
relics  of  St.  Cutlibert  at  Durham.     Soon  after  the  Con- 
cordat in  1804,  the  Bishop  of  Chamliery  verified  the 
document  in  which  the  facts  were  stated  by  these  cou- 
rageous persons  at  the  time  of  the  transference ;  and  ha 
exposed  the  relics  to  public  veneration.     In  1806  they 
were  removed  with  great  solemnity  to  the  cathedral 
ehureh  of  St  Peter's  at  Annecy ;  and  on  Aug.  21, '  .15, 
Uiej  were  finally  translated  to  the  Church  or  the  Visita- 
Haa,  wbiflh  bad  bean  rebuilt  by  Maria  Chriitina,  QuaM 


-  >£^:r'BST5^^ 


Ij'  p^^ 


IM 


•r.  VBAKOn  Dl  •MLM, 


m 


;■  V.  'If*} 


of  SardiniB.  The  ceremony  was  of  tuoh  mtgnifiomM 
as  to  show  that  the  spirit  of  Francis  de  Sales  still  pre- 
vailed with  all  his  ancient  power  over  the  land  he  nad 
loved  so  well.  The  king  and  queen  were  present;  nine 
bishops  and  683  priests  assisted  at  the  functions;  and 
che  concourse  of  people  who  flocked  to  Annecy  to  vene- 
nite  the  holy  relics  on  that  day,  and  through  the  octave, 
was  declared  to  amount  to  dn,000.  The  splendid  silver 
slir-ine  in  which  the  relics  were  placed  was  contributed 
hy  those  of  the  family  of  Sales  who  had  survived  the 
storms  of  the  revolution.  It  is  interesting  to  add,  that 
it  was  H  dH.^ceurlant  of  that  noble  house,  the  Countess 
of  Divoniie,  who  afforded  hospitality  not  many  years 
since  to  the  worthy  successor  of  Francis,  Monsignor 
de  Maiilley,  Bishop  of  Lausanne  and  Geneva,  when 
exiled  from  his  see  by  the  infidel  government  of  the 
latter  city. 

TIte  general  voice  of  the  faithiiil,  as  was  to  be  ex- 
pected, began  immediately  after  his  death  to  invoke  the 
mtercession  of  Fi'ancis ;  and  miracles  of  the  most  asto- 
nishing kind  continually  attested  his  title  to  be  ranked 
among  the  Saints.  Limbs  distorted  from  infancy  were 
made  straight ;  sight  was  restorad  to  the  blind ;  diseases 
at  which  the  beholders  shuddered  were  completely  ban- 
ished ;  the  dead  were  restored  to  life  by  his  power  with 
Almighty  God.  The  assembly  of  the  Frencii  clergy  in 
1625  addressed  to  Pope  Urban  VIIL  a  letter  soliciting 
his  beatification,  and  reiterated  this  petition  on  fow  oc- 
casions, up  to  the  year  166L  Great  exertions  were 
made  by  Jane  Frances  de  Chantal  to  urge  foiward  the 
cause,  and  bring  evidence  as  to  his  life  and  mijacles. 
The  inquiry,  which  was  unusually  exact  and  extensive 
^as  intrusted  to  a  committee,  consisting  of  her  brother. 
tlie  Ai'chbishop  of  Bourges,  the  Bishop  of  Belley,  and 
a  doctor  of  Louvain,  George  Namus.  As  continually 
hu[)pcns  in  similar  cases,  difficulties  interfered  with  the 

tirosecution  of  the  cause,  and  were  singularly  removed 
ly  the  providence  of  Almighty  God.  It  was  reserved 
for  Alftikndar  VIL,  formerly  Cardinal  Ghigi,  wboM  gmt 


|!1  'B  1 


«■•  ZII.]  ffr.  FftAHOIf  !>■  tA&Mi 


147 


flareer  had  been  foretold  to  him  by  the  Saint  himeelf,  to 
place  this  resplendent  li^bt  upon  the  altars  ef  the  Church. 
Hi»  beatification  was  announced  in  1662,  and  his  canon- 
isation in  1665  by  the  same  Pope,  who  appointed  Jan. 
29th  to  he  obsenrad  as  the  festiTal  of  St.  Franeif  dt 
talsk. 


W 


^ 


•T.  FAAirCIS  Dl  lA 


,('' 


B 


'''  Kill,. 


It*  ii'- 

'I:' 


if  I  'i : 

Jy:.   ,'1'  >         !■'   H 


'.II;' 
.  1'J  ,- 


•I 


Ml 


Si 


•I 


'^« 


V  ;     ...i^ii 


?|,, 


i  ^! 


i 


!i  ;i 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

0BAB40TIB  or  IT.  tRAKOB  SI  UUIb 

Ih  tfoncludin^  tliis  outline,  it  will  be  interesting  t$ 
review  in  general  the  clmructer  of"  the  Saint,  as  it  ap- 
pears from  the  details  we  have  given,  and  from  those 
abundant  sources  of  information  which  our  limits  have 
enabled  us  scarcely  to  do  more  than  indicate.  It  is, 
of  course,  obvious  to  any  one,  that  the  leading  feature 
of  his  character  was  the  most  oxquisite,  invincible  sweet- 
ness. He  was  sweetness  itself:  he  mi<^ht  almost  have 
been  styled  that  quality  itself  invftst(Hl  with  a  visible 
form ;  and  the  elegsmce  of  his  a))j)earance  and  air  was 
the  fit  expression  of  tlie  serenity  which  dwelt  within. 
This  sweetness,  h<^wpv«»r,  seems  not  so  much  to  have 
been  the  result  of  natiu-al  disnosition,  as  of  long  efforts 
and  watchfulness  over  himselt.  He  spent  years  in  ao- 
ouiring  it,  and  for  a  long  time  hardly  thought  of  any 
tiling  else.  The  !)hilosoj)her  Seneca  tells  us  that  no 
one  can  hope  coinpletely  to  subdue  any  natural  failing; 
but  he  may  so  far  bring  it  within  bounds,  that  no  one 
but  the  person  himself  shall  be  aware  of  its  existence. 
Grace  can  effect  wonders  unknown  in  the  sphere  of 
8im])ly  natural  virtues;  but  the  remark  holds  good  to 
this  extent,  that  the  natural  failing  will  be  the  trial 
destined  to  bring  out  the  peculiar  excellence  which  the 
character  ought  to  nossess.  We  often  see,  moreover, 
m  the  mind  a  singular  balance  of  opposite  qualities,  in* 
tended  by  the  Creator  to  limit  each  other,  and  to  afford 
the  soul  the  means  of  developing  its  special  grace. 
Thus  it  was  in  the  case  of  our  Saint.  The  very  last 
failing  under  which  he  might  have  been  imagined  to 
suffer,  was  that  of  anger ;  and  yet  he  assured  the  Bi- 
f  ho])  of  Belley  that  this  was  one  of  his  severest  tempta- 
tions. There  were  two  passions  he  felt  assail  him  the 
lUMl  tutoDglj,  Mifff  tnd  lovib    The  ]aUn  h*  could 


i\ 


OM.  UII.]  ST.  FEAirOXl  ]>■  lALBS. 


Uf 


W 


rabdns  by  inaiiag;«ment,  by  eMnf;  it  a  right  and  holj 
direction ;  but  as  for  anger,  be  had  "  to  take  his  heart 
in  both  hands/'  in  order  to  stifle  it.    We  have  seen  the 
Hune  expression  used  some  where  in  St  Francis's  works, 
in  advising  a  person  as  to  the  proper  way  of  subduing 
aTersions.    In  the  Introduction  to  a  Devout  Lifej  he 
gives  some  precepts  of  ^at  interest  and  value  on  the 
proper  means  ot  rcstraming  angler,  which  show  that 
this  metaphor  of  ''taking  the  heart  in  both  hands'' 
must  be  understood  on  what  we  may  call  the  Salesian 
principle  of  "Imness,  and  the  absence  of  any  thing  Uka 
flurry  and  haste.    He  says :  '^  But  how  &m  I  to  repel 
anger?  you  will  say  to  me.    It  is  necessary,  my  Phuo- 
thea,  that  at  the  first  feeling  you  have  of  it  you  should 
promptly  collect  your  forces,  not  by  any  means  rouglily 
or  impetuously,  but  sweetly,  and  nevertheless  seriously. 
For  as  one  sees  in  the  audiences  of  many  senates  and 
parliaments,  that  the  beadles  crying  '  Silence !  silence ! ' 
make  more  noise  than  those  whom  they  wish  to  hold 
iheir  peace,  so  it  hap])ens  full  oft  that,  wishing  with 
impetuosity  to  repress  our  anger,  v  e  raise  more  troublp 
H  our  heai't  than  the  auger  itself  had  done,  and  the  heart, 
leing  thus  troubled,  can  no  more  be  master  of  itself." 
He  then  goes  on  to  advise  that  ejaculationf  should  be 
made  to  Almighty  God  to  calm  the  storm  -  ^tt  observes 
that  "  the  prayer  made  against  m^'^^x  and  pressing 
anger  ought  always  to  be  practi?f :»,  sweetly,  tranquilly, 
and  not  violently."    Anotbar  nile  which  accompanies 
this  is,  that  the  v«>-7  moment  you  perce^'e  you  have 
::^Himlt'w«i.  oti  act  of  anger,  you  shoil**  '*  repair  thf 
foult  by  an   act  of  sweetness,  exercised  promptly  to- 
wards the  same  person  against  whom  you  were  ii-iitated. 
For  as  a  sovereign  remedy  against  lying  is  at  once  to 
recal  the  Ue  the  moment  you  perceive  you  have  said  it, 
10  it  is  a  good  remedy  against  anger  to  repair  it  sud- 
denly by  a  contrary  act  of  sweetness ;  for,  as  thev  sav, 
firesh  wounds  are  most  easily  remedied."    Lastly,  £« 
gives  this  most  useful  precept :  "  When  you  are  in  truh 
vuiUitj,  and  without  any  fubjcct  of  anger,  lay  ia 


r  u' 


f?- 


U  ':  ' 


1 1.  -    :    I.. 


lfe:0 


I ; 


life  mill' 


■;,   •■ 


i  <;:  .■■'■A 


■  'm 


great  store  of  sweetnem  and  meeknessy  uttering  all  yovf 
words  and  performing^  all  your  actions,  little  and  great, 
hi  the  sweetest  manner  you  possibly  can."  One  trans- 
lator renders  this,  ''  so  as  to  be  able  to  utter  all  your 
words,"  Six.  ;  but  this  is  quite  missing  the  point  of  the 
passage.  St.  Francis  means,  that  in  tranquil  hours  we 
should  acquire  a  habit  of  gentleness,  by  speaking  and 
acting  gently,  and  then  in  moments  oi  temptation  we 
shall  oe  better  able  to  resist  the  assaults  of  anger. 

There  are  many  most  beautiful  stories  in  the  Esprit, 
which  appear  to  us  to  justify  St.  Fitmcis's  own  account 
of  his  r^aracter.  His  gentfeness  was  of  too  positiye  a 
kind  to  allow  one  to  suppose  it  was  merely  caused  by 
the  absence  of  the  element  of  anger  in  his  mmd.  Anger, 
or  whatever  princij)le  it  is  on  wnich  the  sterner  yirtues 
depend,  he  doubtless  had;  but  this  was  kept  in  the 
most  perfect  subjection  by  the  action  of  grace  on  hb 
affectionate  heart  and  clear  serene  reason.  The  samf 
combination,  aided  by  his  L.ustrious  birth  and  earl} 
familiaiity  with  high  life,  even  had  grace  not  furmea 
his  whole  manner,  would  doubtless  ot  itself  have  made 
him  one  of  the .  most  finished  gentlemen  of  the  a^e. 
There  is  something  exceedingly  chivalrous  in  his  cha- 
i-acter,  which  meets  one  curiously  now  and  then  through- 
out his  works.  For  example,  in  the  Introduction^  how 
redolent  is  the  following  passage  of  the  days  of  Chris- 
tian chivalry  :  "  The  blessed  Elzear,  Count  of  Arian,  in 
Provence,  having  been  long  absent  from  his  devout  and 
chaste  Delphina,  sJ:c  sent  him  an  express  to  hear  news 
of  his  health,  and  he  made  re}>ly  to  her :  '  I  am  right 
well,  my  dear  wife ;  but  if  you  would  see  me,  seek  me  in 
the  wound  of  the  Side  of  our  sweet  Jesus ;  for  'tis  there 
where  I  dwell,  and  where  you  will  find  me :  elsewhere 
you  will  seek  me  in  vain.'  This  was  a  Christian  knight 
mdeed."  (fntrod.  ii.  12.)  The  readers  of  the  Life  of 
St.  Francis  of  Assisi  will  recollect  that  beautiful  passage 
where  that  great  ntediieval  Saint,  in  his  early  youth, 
dreamed  he  wa.s  in  a  vast  hall  hung  round  with  rich 
iiiDOur  j  and  eyery  helm  and  corslet  and  buckler  bora 


ZIII.] 


•T.  riUIfCIS  DK  SALBB. 


16j 


«n  it  tbe  stamp  of  the  cross.  Tn  the  life  of  his  name- 
■ake,  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  we  find  traces  of  this  martial 
spirit,  which  is  so  nobly  worked  out  in  the  Spiritual 
Exercises,  Such  is  that  scene  where,  when  a  guest  in 
early  life  at  the  Bishop  of  Geneva's,  he  was  invited  to 
sit,  layman  as  he  was,  and  girt  with  his  sword,  in  an 
assembly  of  ecclesiastics,  ana  solved  subtle  questions  in 
theology,  on  which  the  wisest  there  could  not  agree. 
Such,  too,  is  that  other  beautiful  anecdote  we  have 
already  given  of  his  travelling*  with  his  preceptor  in 
the  forest  of  Sonnaz,  when  his  sword  and  scabbard 
thrice  fell  from  his  baldrick,  and  formed  the  figure  of 
a  cross  upon  the  gi'ound.  The  whole  picture  of  the 
old  priest  and  the  youthfiU  noble  riding  in  tiie  forest, 
his  eye  arrested  by  the  sign  of  the  cross  accidentally 
formed  by  the  sword,  and  his  tracing  in  the  occuiTcnce 
an  indication  of  God's  will — all  leads  one  to  those  soft 
and  holy  scenes  we  meet  with,  in  the  midst  of  so  much 
of  a  different  character,  in  such  a  romance  as  the  Mori 
d^  Arthur. 

When  we  reflect  that,  to  a  naturally  pure  and  noble 
disposition,  there  was  in  St.  Francis  de  Sales  added  that 
dignity,  which  among  his  class  in  old  Europe  before 
the  revolutionary  times  was  almost  a  second  natiu*e,  and 
that  this  was  the  material  which  Divine  grace  moulded 
into  a  supernatural  form,  and  seemed  to  rejoice  in 
lavishing  its  richest  oniaments  upon  it,  we  can  well  fancy 
that  the  result  must  have  been  something  extraordinary. 
People  imagine  St.  Francis  de  Sales'  character  to  have 
been  marked  chiefly  by  a  sort  of  sugary  and  somewhat 
cloying  sweetness.  We  have  shown  what  a  mistake 
this  is.  There  is  a  sweetness  which  is  the  resalt  of  a 
certain  childishness  of  mind,  and  which  becomes  fretful- 
ness  the  moment  really  trying  circumstances  ap|)ear 
His  was  the  disciplined  sweetness  of  a  gracious  soul,  at 
peace  with  itself  and  full  of  the  light  of  heaven.  Had 
It  l)€en  any  thing  else,  people  would  not  have  stood  in 
awe  of  him  as  they  did.  The  Bishop  of  Belley,  who 
ebflarr  ed  him  with  mora  than  the  Tigilanoe  and  aoourac^r 


169 


•T.  F1UXC18  DB  tALSt. 


^,1 


;ttv 


H 

H 

■  •■ 

!       .      - 

i\iiw 

!i  ■'  / 

''  ^ml 

f  fw^ 

H:l,, 

■•'ii 

of  ft  Bof/welly  writes  on  this  subject  in  singularlj  strik- 
ing terms,  which  are  worth  quoting  at  length.  **  Our 
Saint/'  he  says,  ''  with  this  aid  of  grace,  knew  how  to 
onite  in  himself  these  two  admirable  qualities  of  gravity 
and  sweetness.  He  knew  how  to  accompany  with  so 
much  afTability  and  sweetness  that  ray  c^  mpjesty  and 
honour  which  giace  diffused  over  his  brow,  chat  you 
would  havo  said  it  was  a  Moses,  who  was  veiUnff  his 
luminous  visage  to  converse  famiharlv  with  his  brethren. 
If  he  had  attractions  to  make  himselV  loved,  he  had  also 
so  much  g^vity  and  modesty  that  one  could  not  choose, 
but  fear,  or  at  least  respect  him ;  but  with  a  respect  so 
lull  of  love,  that  I  know  many  people  who  trembled  on 
approaching  him,  not  so  much  for  fear  of  displeasing 
him  (for  nothing  displeased  him,  and  the  modest  were 
always  well  received  by  him),  but  for  fear  of  not  pleasing 
him  enough.  I  have  known  persons  of  high  quality, 
whose  ordinary  conversation  was  with  tlie  g.eutest 
princes  and  pi  Incesses,  who  declared  to  me  that  they 
composed  themselves  witii  more  attention  when  they 
were  in  his  presence  than  they  did  when  in  the  ni^sence 
of  those  goas  of  the  eaith ;  it  being  their  opinion  that 
GoJ  had  set  in  his  visage  a  ray  of  His  light,  which 
penetrated  them  even  to  tiie  heait."  {Eitvrity  xiv.  7.) 
Of  this  digiity  of  denieanom,  wliicn  is  indeed  a 
ouality  more  rar^lv  to  be  found  than  greatness  of  mind, 
tne  Bishop  of  Belley  gives  a  most  curious  illustration. 
Having  made  it  his  business  to  wntch  Francis,  and 
note  down  all  his  sayings  and  customs,  it  occun-ed  to 
the  good  bishop  that  it  would  he  extremely  interasting 
to  know  liow  Francis  conducted  himself  when  alone. 
He  resorted  to  a  very  simjile  expedient  to  discover  this, 
which  he  relates  with  much  nni'vefS.  "  I  must  liera  tell 
you  one  of  my  tricks.  When  he  came  to  see  me  at  my 
residence,  ana  to  pass  his  usual  octave  there,  which  bo 
never  failed  to  do  every  year,  I  had  purposely  made 
holes  in  certain  places,  to  watch  him  when  he  was  re* 
tired  alone  in  hu  chamber,  tn  see  how  he  carried  him* 
■ilf  IB  ftad J,  al  prAjor^  a  fmdmg,  in  ■nditaiiofy  ia 


, 


fr.  nuiroit  db  tALit 

littmf;^,  in  waHdng^,  in  lyinj^-down,  in  rising,  in  writing 
•nd)  to  be  brief,  in  the  most  trifling  occasions  wbereini 
wben  alone,  one  often  gives  oneself  liberty.  Never- 
theless, I  never  observed  him  dispense  himself  from  the 
most  exact  law  of  modesty :  such  he  was  alone  as  in 
company,  such  in  company  as  alone;  an  equality  of 
bodily  demeanour  similar  to  that  of  his  heart.  Being 
alone,  he  was  as  composed  as  if  in  a  rreat  assembly. 
If  he  was  praying,  you  would  have  said  he  was  in  tne 
presence  ot  the  angels  and  of  all  the  blessed.  Motion* 
less  as  a  dove,  and  with  a  countenance  full  of  awe,  I 
even  took  notice,  seeing  him  by  himself,  vr'iether  ho 
crossed  his  legs,  or  whether  he  placed  his  knees  oyer 
each  other,  or  whether  he  rested  Lis  head  on  his  elbow. 
Never.  Always  a  gravity,  accompanied  with  such  t 
sweetness,  that  filled  all  those  who  looked  at  him  with 
love  and  reverence."  ( Esprit f  iv.  1.)  For  such  a  les- 
son one  can  forgiye  tlie  good  bishop  for  his  astonish- 
ing infringement  of  the  usual  laws  of  hospitaUty  and 
good  breeding.  After  all,  to  have  such  a  person  as 
Francis  in  the  house,  was  hke  entertaining  a  superior 
being.  Other  witnesses  speak  la  just  the  same  way. 
Jane  Fitmces  de  Chantal,  in  that  beautiful  letter  m 
which  she  describes  his  character,  speaks  of  "  the  great 
•plrndour  of  his  countenance"  when  he  said  Mass ;  and 
how,  when  he  earned  the  Blessed  Sacrament  in  procos- 
non,  "  you  would  have  seen  him  like  a  cherubim,  al) 
luminous."  '^0  Jesus  i"  she  exclaims,  **  how  admirable 
was  the  order  which  God  had  plaeed  in  that  blessed 
sou! !  Every  thing  was  so  arranged,  so  calm,  and  the 
liffht  of  God  so  clear,  that  he  saw  even  the  least  atomi 
of  its  movements.  That  soul  was  more  pure  than  the 
sun,  and  more  white  than  snow,  in  its  actions,  in  its 
resolutions,  in  its  designs  and  affections."  And,  coming 
more  to  the  subject  ot  that  external  grandeur  so  natunu 
to  such  a  soul,  she  gives  us  another  key  to  it  in  tha 
value  the  Saint  put  upon  his  office  as  bishop :  **  As  for 
his  dignity,"  she  says,  "  what  honour  and  respect  did 
Im  \mr  to  iti    Cartainly  hia  humility  by  no 


"■I:,  I 


life;  ■ 


, '  I'  "J  R  ;  i' 


154 


»T.  PHANClt  DA  SALBi. 


aindflred  the  exercise  of  the  gravity,  majesty,  and  rer» 
ranee  due  to  his  Quality  of  bishop.  My  Ood !  might  I 
dare  to  say  it  ?  1  say  it,  if  I  may :  it  simply  seems  to 
me  that  m^  Blessed  Father  was  a  living  imnge,  in  which 
the  Son  of  God  our  Lord  was  painted ;  for  truly,  the 
order  and  the  economy  of  that  holy  soul  was  aitogcither 
supernatural  and  divine.'* 

His  natural  character  had  aconsiderabi^tin^c  of  the 
country  in  which  he  lived, — simple,  beautsfiil,  m'\\  yt 
g^rand,  like  the  Alpine  mouiitairs.  He  was  fjonscious  of 
a  strong  predilection  for  his  country,  and  seerjs  to  have 
delighted  in  it,  and  to  have  Mi  that  it  gave  him  a  spe- 
cial influence.  Thus,  we  have  seen  how  toucLingly  he 
brings  this  out  in  the  dedication  \>(  his  controversial 
work  to  the  inhabitants  of  Thonon,  wh^re  he  snys  tbst 
the  air  of  his  book  is  "  wholly  Savoyai  d ;  aij;i  it  ..^  a 
sai'vf ary  recipe  an(f  last  remedy,  since  it  is  the  return 
to  ^o'iiT  u  vtive  air."  This  beautiful  metaphor  must 
have  ^\Oim  to  the  hearts  of  those  to  whom  it  was  ad- 
dressee,, The  Catholic  Church  was  their  native  home, 
whither  they  should  retire  to  be  refreshed,  as  with 
the  cool  mountain-breezes  of  their  infancy.  Writing  to 
the  governor  of  Savoy,  to  remove  some  jealousy  that 
the  Duke  might  feel  in  the  then  state  of  aiFuirs  between 
Bavoy  and  Fi*ance,  in  consequence  of  a  visit  be  had 
made  to  Lyons,  Francis  says,  "  I  am  essentiaHy  a 
Savoyard,  both  I  and  all  mine;  and  I  could  never  be 
any  thing  else."  It  is  interesting  to  notice  all  this, 
because  of  the  refutation  it  g^ves  to  the  notion  that 
Catholicity  interfei*es  with  the  warmest  attacliment  >o 
country  and  kindred,  lie  loved  his  own  people,  and 
was  thoroughly  at  home  with  them.  The  very  boat- 
men on  the  Lake  of  Annecy  called  him  "  Father."  In 
a  charming  chanter  of  the  Exprity  where  the  Bishop  of 
Belley  tells  us  ot  a  sailing  excursion  they  had  on  the  lake, 
we  read  how  he  was  reproved  by  Francis  when  he  wanted 
the  boatmen  to  call  the  holy  prelate  "  My  Lord"  instead 
of  the  endearing  name  of  "  Father."  His  works  ant 
ooAfMifttioiui  aMund  in  iUuftmtioDt  dtti? ad  bom  tb 


e>.  XXII.]  tT.  FRANCIS  Ol  lALIl. 


165 


\' 


Alpine  toennrjr.    The  foUowinr  ii  a  rery  pleasing  in- 
•^Anoe.    Writing  to  a  friend,  ne  feiays:  "I  protest  to 
you,  that  on  receiving  jour  letter,  it  seemed  to  me  that 
I  was  gathering  flowers  of  incomparable  sweetness  on 
the  sunmiits  of  our  mountains,  where  I  then  was.*'  Again, 
in  relating  the  histonr  of  a  visitation  he  Lad  madf 
through  his  diocese :  "I  even  found  God  full  of  sweet- 
ness and  gentleness  among  our  highest  and  roughest 
mountains,  where  many  smtiple  souls  were  cherishing 
f^nd  adoring  Him  in  aU  trutn  and  sincerity ;  and  the 
roes  and   chamois  were  running  hither  and  thiither 
amidst  the  frightful  glaciers  to  proclaim  His  pi-aises :  it 
is  time  that,  tor  want  of  devotion.  I  only  imderstood  a 
few  words  of  their  languages ;  out  it  seemed  to  me 
that  they  said  beautiful  thmgs.     Your  St  Augustine 
would  have  understood  them  well  if  he  had  been  thei-e." 
In  the  same  letter  he  relates  the  deep  impression  he  re- 
oeiveil  ii-om  an  accident  that  had  taken  place  "  in  this 
country  of  the  glaciers"  dunn^  his  journey.     A  shep- 
herd was  going  about  the  glaciere  to  recover  a  stray 
heifer ;  he  missed  his  footing,  and  fell  into  a  deep  cre- 
vasse ;  people  came  to  rescue  him ;  and  one  of  his  neigh- 
bours caused  himself  to  be  lowered  bv  a  cord  down 
the  flight  fill  precipice,  where  he  founcf  the  ]wot  man 
dead  and  frozen ;  and  they  drew  liim  ii])  iu  all  haste, 
with  the  corpse  in  his  arms,  lest  he  too  sliould  perish 
in  the  icy  chasm.     The  Saint  is  profoundly  struck  with 
every  circumstance :  the  shp])heniwan(iiM-ing  about  those 
teiTiule  paths  to  regain  one  »tray  lu;ifer ;  his  eagerness 
in  the  pursuit,  which  makes  him  forget  his  own  safety ; 
the  alacrity  of  his  neighbour,  who  descends  into  the 
abyss  that  he  may  rescue  his  friend  from  his  peril.     Tr 
was  like  a  parable  of  our  Lord's  in  actual  life.   He  iKms^ 
not  enlarge  on  it,  but  says  simply,  "  Quel  aiffvillon  pou* 
moiy  ma  ekh^e  filleT     One  sees  the  influence  of  the 
scenery  upon  his  style;  his  fondness  for  introducing 
metaphors  from  the  frequent  changes  of  the  atmosphere 
Ji  a  mountainous  region ;  from  the  vintages,  from  bees, 
^om  birds,  from  flowtrsi  ana  limilAr  natunl  objaott, 


II'  :» 


^m 


'M 


*;.;.: 


^;' 


I'll 


M  tr.  PBAHCntt  Bl  lAlBt. 

of  wlii)h  he  was  evidently  a  rreat  obsenrer.  One  mt 
nous  eharacteristio  of  his  sty^  is  his  habit  of  drawing 
illustrations  fi'om  the  senses  of  taste  and  smell,  of  which 
a  familiar  instance  has  passed  fi'om  his  writinj^  into 
many  religious  books;  we  allude  to  that  of  making  up 
from  his  morning's  meditation  a  spiritual  bouquet  witn 
which  to  refresh  himself  during  the  day.  Another 
favourite  set  of  comparisoiis  he  draws  from  the  old 
treatises  of  natural  history,  in  which  he  seems  to  hare 
taken  great  delight,  such  as  the  legends  about  the  hal- 
eyon,  the  birds  ot  Paradise,  the  formation  of  pearia 
from  the  dew-drops,  and  imagery  of  that  fanciful  yet 
beautiful  description.  Occasionally  there  is  a  most 
poetic  spirit  in  his  illustrations;  for  example,  in  the 
preface  to  the  Treatise  on  the  Love  of  Oody  where  he 
compares  the  plea^in  effect  produced  on  his  mind^ 
amiast  the  pressure  o^  business,  by  always  keeping  be- 
fore him  the  plan  of  so  ne  pious  treatise  or  other,  to  the 
repose  which  engraveis  and  jewellei's  find  is  afforded 
to  their  wearied  eyes,  by  looking  from  time  to  time  ob 
some  beautiful  emerald.  This  sweetness  of  style,  how 
erer,  does  not  deceive  us;  for  in  eveiT  page  lie  shows 
so  keen  an  insight  into  the  heart,  that  he  keeps  us,  as 
were,  in  awe,  whilst  he  attracts  us  by  his  gentleneek 
This  is  singularly  shown  in  a  set  of  questions  for  self- 
examination  to  be  found  among  his  smaller  treatises, 
where  the  shortness  and  the  simplicity  of  his  questions, 
coming  straight  to  the  conscience  like  the  piercing  of 
ft  sword,  show  one  that  Francis  de  Sales,  with  all  his 
gentleness,  was  not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with,  and  that 
his  sweetness  in  reality  derives  its  essential  character 
from  that  burning  hatred  for  sin  with  which  one  who 
loved  God  so  ardently  was  of  necessity  imbued. 

His  hfe  possesses  the  charm  of  singular  unitj 
Many  holy  men  have  fallen  i.i  some  period  of  theit 
lives,  and  have  exhibited  wonrteifii'  example  of  the 
power  of  penance  to  bring  back  lioliness  even  greater 
than  innocence.  Many  good  men,  without  being  b» 
Irajed  into  aotoal  sin,  Lave  y%%  strftyad  mora  or  isM 


\' 


OB  XTII.]  IT.  VmAVOIl  91  f  All 


117 


'[ 


( 


from  the  path  on'fpnallj  intended  for  them  bj  Bivint 
Provid(>nce,  have  taken  inconsiderate  steps,  ana  embar- 
rassed tlieir  career.  But  there  is  in  the  life  of  Francii 
de  Sales  a  completeness  and  harmony,  wliich  distin- 
guishes it  no  less  from  the  chiss  of  heroic  penitents  than 
Iron*  the  chequei  d  scene  of  mistakes  and  corrections, 
u.  tailing'  and  nsin^^  ag'ain,  which  chainicterises  the  hie 
of  most  men.  He  never  lost  baptismal  innocence ;  each 
ffreat  action  of  his  hfe  is  preceded,  accompanied,  and 
followed  by  prayer.  His  days  are  full ;  lie  does  all 
tiling  "  passionatKly  well/'  infusing-  into  the  calmness 
and  (leliberateness  ot  a  course  which  never  steps  an  inch 
in  advance  of  God*s  will,  an  intensity  far  greater  than 
the  vehemence  which  higlily-excited  feelings  coula  im 
part  to  those  who  act  from  merely  natural  motiyeu. 

In  these  times,  and  to  Protestant  readers,  his  life 
and  works  are  peculiarly  instnictive,  for  this  reason, 
that  whilst  none  can  deny  his  singular  holiness,  it  if 
equally  imi)ossibIe  to  deny  that  that  holiness  was  from 
beginning  to  end  the  product  of  the  most  complete 
&ith  in  the  teaching  of  the  Catholic  Church.  It  must 
always  be  remembered,  remarked  an  Anghcan  paper,* 
in  reviewing  a  volume  of  translations  from  his  works 
which  appeared  some  time  since  {Practical  Piety 
aet  forth  ty  St.  Francii  de  Sales\  "that  St.  Francis 
de  Sales  was  a  thorough  Roman  Catholic."  Nothing 
can  be  more  true.  Wuilst  it  would  be  easy  for  Angh- 
eans  to  "  adapt"  his  writing,  or  consideraole  parts  of 
them,  as  Thomas  k  Kempis  may  be  abridged  or  al- 
tered, it  could  never  be  concealed,  that  such  character- 
istics as  the  most  tender  devotion  to  the  Blessed  Virgin 
and  St.  Joseph,  and  to  the  relics  of  Saints,  the  continual 
application  of  the  Huly  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  and  the 
)resence  of  that  sacrificial  view  of  daily  actions  which  is 
lerived  from  it,  the  constant  recollection  of  the  suffering 
Jhurch  in  purgatory,  the  devotion  to  the  Five  Blessed 
Wounds  and  to  the  Sacred  Heart  cf  Jesus,  ani,  vn  fine. 


*  Tke  QwidiMi 


'■  (:' 


fV' ' 


.  ••MIS 
fi|lil 

mm 


m 


lit::  ^l|i  i 


i  Ul 


I8t 


•r.  VAAVOn  M  •AUBt 


all  that  people  consider  as  most  distmotiTelj  **  Homaa 
Catholic,  pervades  the  whole  of  his  teaching^  and  worki; 
as  much  as  they  do  those  of  St.  Philip  Neri  and  his  dis- 
ciples. Tlis  life  is  thus  one  great  testimony  to  the  truth 
or  Catholicity,  inasmuch  as  it  all  hangps  indissolubly  to- 
gether, and  you  caimot  separate  his  charity  from  hii 
faith.  If  tliese  ff>w  notices,  aided  by  the  powerful  in- 
tercession of  the  Blessed  Saint,  lead  even  one  soul  to  per- 
ceive the  force  of  thir  arf^ument,  or  in  any  way  promota 
the  study  of  the  teach\^^  of  St  Francis,  or  extend  mors 
widely  the  devotion  towards  him,  richly  indeed  will  tb* 
writer  feel  that  his  labours  have  been  rewarded. 


■'■■v  . 


^SLECTIONS 


VBOM  «■» 


'    'IV* 


^IMRIT  OF  ST.  FRANCIS  DE  SALES.' 


BT  THE  BISHOP  0?  BULBT. 


It  has  been  our  cpood  fortune  to  haye  had  transmitted 
to  us  more  nbundiint  memorials  of  this  most  sweet  and 
chnrmiripr  Saint  thaij  perhaps  of  any  other  in  the  calendar. 
What  witli  his  writing's  and  lettei-s,  we  seem  to  have  a 
thoroiig-h  and  familiar  actjuaintance  with  every  linea- 
ment of  his  cfiuracter;  while,  to  complete  the  portrait, 
we  enjoy  the  })enefit  of  the  reminiscences  of  a  contem- 
porary and  intimate  friend,  John  Pierre  Camus,  Bishop 
of  Belley,  himself  remarkable  for  a  higfh  degree  of 
sanctity,  an«i  upon  whom  St.  Francis  had  laid  his  holy 
hands  in  consecration. 

FroTn  the  work  containin*^  these  recollections,  en- 
titled "  The  Spirit  of  St.  Franci"  de  Sales,"  and  which  is 
usually  pi'efixed  to  the  Saint's  wr:t' ;g«,  a  few  selections 
have  been  made,  as  forming-  ai>  a;  propriate  complement 
to  his  life.  As  M.  de  Delley  nUopted  no  systematic 
plac  in  the  memoi-ial  of  his  mend's  vii-tues  which  he 
nas  bequeathed  to  us,  so  neither  will  it  be  necessary  to 
follow  nim  in  the  exact  order  which  he  has  chanced  to 
observe.    Forced  by  limited  space  to  make  a  selection,* 

*  The  extracts  have  been  put  together,  nnder  the  direotioo 
if  one  of  the  Editors  of  the  series,  by  way  of  an  Appandix  I) 
ir.  Onslqr**  Lif»  of  the  8aint 


100 


•T.  FRANCIS  DB  SALS8. 


the  tninslator  ban  therefore  thougflit  it  bout  to  gro«f 
the  paMaget  in  their  most  natural  connection. 


Uli 


I  !:• 


1ST     h*'^-r   4     •« 


SAnrr  ■  smtBTwcBt,  craritt,  aitd  rBAOTion  ov 

rRATKHMAL  OOHKBOTIOM. 

The  ipirit  of  St.  Francis  was  pre-eminently  a  spirit  of 
sweetne88 — ruper  mel  dulcis ;  tljut  supeinHtiiiHl  sweet- 
ness which  is,  as  it  were,  the  cream  and  the  Hower  of 
chanty.  Dut  its  preciuusness  is  hest  felt  when  exhi- 
bited in  conibinutiun  and  harmony  with  those  other 
Christian  virtues  and  g^races  which  the  Saint  |>ossessed 
in  80  eminent  a  de^p'ee ;  for  sucii  is  one  of  tiie  distm- 
guisliing  marks  of  t^upcnmtural  virtue,  tliat  its  promi- 
nence never  implies  any  op|>osite  defect,  but  the  very 
reverse;  whereas  it  is  sehlum  that  any  purely  natural 
quality,  when  very  remarkable,  is  not  accompanied  by 
kome  at  least  slig-ht  defect  in  what  may  be  called  the 
counterbalancing-  quality.  It  is  as  thou;j;-h  one  pole 
could  not  be  raised  without  the  de])re88ion  ol  its  opposite. 
The  quotations  which  follow  will  exhibit  this  beautiful 
harmony  in  the  Saint's  character. 

Of  the  hisrh  esteem  in  which  St.  Francis  held  the 
virtue  of  gentleness^  we  have  an  example  in  the  follow- 
ing anecdote  related  by  M.  de  Belley : 

"  A  young  man  was  once  brought  to  him  for  the 
purpose  of  receiving  a  severe  reprimand ;  nevertheless, 
ne  spoke  to  him  with  his  habitual  sweetness,  and  per* 
eeivmg  the  youth's  obduracy,  he  onl^  shed  tears,  re< 
marking  that  his  hard  and  unyieldmg  heart  would 
bring  him  to  a  bad  end.  Being  told  that  his  mother 
had  cursed  him,  he  said, '  Oh !  this  is  sad  indeed.  If 
the  poor  woman  is  taken  at  her  word,  in  vain  will  she 
afterwards  curse  her  own  curse.  Unhappy  mother  of  » 
•till  more  wretched  son !' 

*'  The  Saint  proved  too  true  a  prophet ;  for  the  youth 
ptrished,  not  Umg-  after,  in  n  iniseranle  duel ;  his  bodj 


\ 


•T.  PRAIVOIB  01  BALBt.  10J 

leeame  the  pnj  of  dogt  and  woWet,  and  hit  motha 
difld  of  grief. 

'*  In  reply  to  those  who  found  fault  with  him  for 
having  reproved  with  too  much  gentleness  on  this  oc- 
casion, he  said,  *  What  would  vou  hav«  hud  me  do  ? 
I  did  my  best  to  arm  myself  with  an  anger  free  ii-om 
•in;  I  took  my  heart  in  both  my  hands  [a  fuvourite 
expression  of  the  Suint^s,  as  has  been  seen],  and  1  had 
not  the  resolution  to  throw  it  at  his  head.  13 ut,  truth 
to  say,  I  was  afraid  of  letting  that  littl**  dro|)  of  meek- 
DOM,  which  it  has  taken  me  twenty -two  yetii's'  labour 
to  store  up  like  dew  in  the  vessel  of  my  henit,  run  off 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  The  bees  are  seveinl  months 
making  a  little  honey,  which  a  man  will  swallow  down 
in  a  mouthful.  Besides,  what  is  the  use  of  8])enking 
when  we  are  not  hstened  to?  This  youtii  was  iuuo- 
eessible  to  remonstrances,  for  the  light  of  his  eyes — his 
judgment,  I  mean — was  not  with  him.  I  should  have 
ione  him  no  p^ood,  and  myself,  |)erliaps,  much  harm,— 
like  one  who  is  drowned  in  his  attempt  to  save  another 
Charity  must  be  prudent  and  judicious.' " 

It  was  "oMom,  however,  that  the  heart  of  the  sin- 
ner was  proof  against  his  gentleness.  Among  other 
anecdotes  of  a  like  nature,  tue  Bishop  relates  the  fol- 
lowing: 

''While  engaged  in  one  of  his  diocesan  visitations, 
great  complaints  were  made  to  him  of  an  ecclesiastic 
who  nve  scandal  by  his  life,  and  whose  habits  but  ill 
iccoraed  with  the  theolo^cal  science  for  which  he  was 
remarkable.  This  ecclesiastic  presented  himself  before 
the  holy  prelate  with  as  much  boldness  as  if  he  had 
been  perfectly  innocent  of  all  that  had  been  laid  to  his 
ehar^,  and  loudly  treated  the  matter  as  a  calumny. 
The  Saint  gave  him  a  very  gracious  reception,  charao- 
ferised  by  his  accustomed  oenignity ;  but  when  he 
beheld  the  efiirontery  with  which  the  offender  justified 
himself,  he  blushed  in  his  presence.  The  very  change 
ni  countenance,  unaccompanied  by  any  other  correo- 
tiony  tooohed  the  heart  of  this  impenitent  sinner.    He 


Ih  '1 


lUt- 


if 


KV 


|j 


li'      >fe 


■f 


.  I    m 


Cl 


.^^^s 


h. 


ie9 


ST.  FRANCIS  DB  SALBS. 


resolved  to  disarm  his  judge  by  confession,  and  begged 
the  holy  Bishop  to  hear  him  in  the  tribunal  of  penancik 
Immediately,  not  an  ear  only,  but  still  more  a  hearty 
was  open  to  him,  and  ho  came  out  of  this  health-giving 
pool  like  Naaman  from  the  watera  of  the  Jordan ;  his 
race  sufiiised  with  that  holy  shame  which  conducts  to 
glory. 

"  *  Well,  monseigneur,'  he  said,  *  what  think  you 
of  the  greatest  sinner  upon  earth  V  *  That  God  has 
poured  His  abundant  mercy  on  you,*  replied  the  holy 
man ;  *  you  are  all  resplendent  with  gfrace  in  my  eyes/ 
'  But  you  know  what  I  reallv  am,'  he  rejoined.  *  Yon 
are  such  as  I  have  said.'  '  I  mean,  what  I  have  been.' 
*  Of  that,*  replied  the  Saint,  *  I  have  no  recollection. 
Why  should  I  keep  up  the  memory  of  what  God  has 
consigned  to  oblivion  r  W  ould  you  take  me  for  that 
Pharisee  who  esteemed  Magdalen  according  to  whaic 
she  had  been,  not  according  to  what  she  was  when 
washing  her  Saviour's  feet  with  her  tears?  And  to 
prove  to  you,'  he  added,  *  that  I  look  upon  you  as  re> 

Elenished  with  heavenly  g^ces,  of  which  your  heart 
as  received  a  full  measure  and  running  over,  I  beg 
you  to  make  me  a  partaker  of  it  by  giving  me  your 
Uessing.'  So  saying,  he  threw  himseu  at  the  ecclesi- 
astic's feet,  to  the  exceeding  jrreat  confusion  of  the 
latter.  '  No,'  said  the  Saint,  M  am  in  earnest ;  I  en- 
trjat  you  to  render  me  the  same  office  I  have  ])er- 
formed  for  you,  and  to  hear  my  confession.'  The  other 
refused,  but  he  constrained  him  to  acouiesce;  and  it 
is  impossible  to  express  how  great' v  he  was  edified 
thereby.  And  fiirtiier  to  convince  nim  that  he  was 
perfectly  sincere  in  the  esteem  he  pP  ofessed  for  him,  he 
made  his  confession  to  him  two  or  hree  times  consecu- 
tively in  sight  of  the  public,  who  icarcely  knew  which 
to  admire  most,  the  prodigious  bimility  of  the  saintly 
Bishop,  or  the  miraculous  conversion  of  the  ecclesiastic. 
"  One  day  a  person  came  to  him  to  confession  who 
detailed  his  sins  with  so  much  boldness,  not  to  say  im. 
podencei  and  with  such  a  total  want  of  all  feeling  or 


•T.  FBANCI8  It&  SALB8. 


Ida 


our 
esi- 
thfl 
en- 


aompnnctioii,  that  he  might  have  heen  supposed  to 
be  narratmg  a  story,  and  to  be  even  listening  to  him- 
self discoursing  with  a  certain  self-complacency.  Thm 
Saint,  who,  from  the  tone  in  which  the  penitent  spok^ 
knew  the  inward  indisposition  of  his  soul,  since  of 
the  three  conditions  for  the  sacrament  of  penance  he 
brought  but  one,  confession,  and  that  of  a  very  imper- 
fect kind,  being  devoid  of  that  modesty  and  holy  shame 
which  ought  to  accompany  it,  without  interrupting  his 
narration,  began  to  weep  and  sigh  and  sob.  The  other 
asked  him  what  was  the  matter,  and  if  he  was  ill. 
*  Alas !  my  brother,'  he  replied,  *  I  am  very  well,  thank 
God;  but  you  are  very  ill.*  The  other  boldly  an- 
swered that  he  too  was  in  good  health.  *  Well/  said 
the  holy  man, '  go  on.*  Tne  man  continued,  in  the 
fame  off-hand  manner,  relating  shocking  things  with- 
out  any  sense  of  sorrow,  and  the  Saint's  tears  redoubled. 
Again  the  penitent  asked  him  what  he  was  weeping 
for.  *  Alas !'  he  replied,  '  I  weep  because  you  wee^ 
not.*  He  who  had  oeen  insensible  to  the  first  prick—* 
the  hour  of  grace,  as  we  have  reason  to  believe,  having 
now  oome — was  not  callous  to  the  second;  and  the 
rock,  struck  by  this  rod,  suddenly  giving  forth  water,  he 
exclaimed,  *  0  wretched  man  that  I  am !  who  feel  no 
sorrow  for  my  enormous  sins,  which  draw  tears  from 
him  who  is  innocent.'  So  powci'fully  was  he  touched, 
that  he  was  very  near  fainting,  had  not  the  Saint  con- 
soled him ;  then  instructing  him  how  to  make  his  act 
of  contrition,  which  the  penitent  performed  with  won- 
derful compunction,  he  put  him  in  a  proner  state  to 
receive  the  grace  of  the  sacrament.  From  that  moment 
this  man  gave  himself  entirely  to  God,  and  became  a 
model  of  penance. 

"  The  penitent  confided  all  this  to  one  of  his  inti 
mate  friends  (who  related  the  circumstance  without 
mentioning  the  individual's  name),  but  witii  the  addi- 
tion of  the  following  rather  pleasing  remark :  *  Othei 
oonfessors,'  he  said,  '  sometimes  make  their  penitents 
weep ;  but  as  for  me,  I  made  my  confessor  weep.    It 


UNIVERSITY  OF  WIKHSflR  LIBRARY 


I!'     I'. 

i. 


;;i 


W:' 


n 


'I'i 


llf:.*i 


H.  ti 


i  H 


l#A  tr.  Fiuiroit  db  silbs. 

is  trae,  he  jpiud  it  me  back  to  the  full ;  and  God  granti 
for  my  sours  salvation,  that  the  change  may  have  been 
ffeuuine,  and  that  I  may  never  lose  the  grace  which  hit 
benediction  then  conferred  upon  me/  *' 

Hare  is  an  instance  of  his  leniency  to  offenders : 
**  An  ecclesiastic  belonging  to  his  diocese  had  been 
imprisoned  for  some  scanddous  offence.  The  Saint  was 
urgently  entreated  by  his  officers  to  allow  him  to  be 
pimished  as  the  law  enjoined.  His  gentleness  accord- 
mgly  submitted  to  compulsion,  and  he  let  them  have 
their  way.  Besid&i  the  penances  which  the  culprit  had 
to  undergo  in  prison,  he  was  interdicted  from  aJl  eccle- 
tiastical  functions  for  six  months.  So  far  from  being 
amended  by  this  treatment,  he,  on  the  contrary,  grew 
worse,  and  it  was  found  necessary  to  deprive  him  of 
his  benefice  and  expl  him  from  the  diocese.  While  in 
prison  no  one  could  seem  more  docile,  more  humble, 
and  more  penitent ;  he  wept,  he  entreated,  he  promised, 
he  protested.  When  threatened  with  being  deprived 
of  his  benefice,  he  promised  to  amend;  but  after  having 
eluded  justice  so  many  times,  he  found  the  door  of 
mercy  closed  against  him.  Some  months  afterwards, 
another  ecclesiastic  was  imprisoned  for  faults  no  less 
serious.  The  officers  wished  to  treat  him  similarly, 
and  hinder  him  from  having  recourse  to  the  mercy  of 
the  blessed  Francis,  his  bishop,  to  whom  he  was  con> 
tinually  appealing,  protesting  that  he  was  willing  to 
give  up  his  charge,  provided  it  were  at  his  feet,  confi- 
dent that  he  would  oe  able  to  read  the  sincerity  of  his 
repentance  in  his  eyes.  The  Saint  commanded  him  to 
be  brought  before  nim.  His  officers  objected.  '  Well,' 
he  said, '  if  you  will  not  let  him  appear  before  me,  jou 
cannot  forbid  my  appearing  before  nim.  You  will  not 
allow  him  to  leave  ms  prison,  sutfer  me,  then,  to  enter 
within  its  walls  and  share  his  captivity  with  him.  Wa 
must  indeed  console  this  dear  brother  who  calls  upon 
vs.  I  give  you  my  word  that  he  shall  not  come  forth 
without  your  consent.'  He  acv  jrdingly  visited  him  in 
hif  prison,  aooompanied  bj  his  oiBcers.    Scarcely  did 


ST.  FRANCIS  DB  SALES. 


M 


at  behcid  this  miserable  man  at  his  feet,  when  lie  fell 
apon  liis  neck,  bathed  in  tears,  and  loving-Iy  embraced 
and  kissed  him ;  then,  turning-  to  his  officers,  '  Is  it 
possil)le,'  he  said  to  them,  '  tliut  you  do  not  j)erceive 
that  God  has  ah'eady  tbr^viMi  this  man?     Is  there 
any  condemnation  for  those  who  are  in  Christ  Jesus? 
If  God  justifies  iiim,  who  is  he  that  shall  condemn  him  ? 
Assuredly  not  I.      Go,  my  brother,'  he  said  to  the 
guilty  man, — *  ffo  in  peace,  and  sin  no  more ;  I  kno'V 
uiat  you  are  truly  penitent.'     The  officers  told  him  *\n 
was  a  hypocrite;  that  the  former  offender,  whom  it  hw 
been  found  necessary  to  depose,  made  much  strong'er 
demonstrations  of  repentance  than  this  one.    *  Perhaps/ 
rejoined  the  Saint, '  he  would  have  bwen  truly  converted 
if  you  had  treated  him  with  more  lenity.     Have  a  care 
\e»t  his  soul  may  be  asked  at  your  hands  some  day. 
As  for  me,  I  am  willing*  to  be  security  for  this  man,  if 
you  will  accept  of  me  as  such.     I  am  persuaded  tha* 
Lis  heart  is  truly  touched ;  and  if  he  is  deceiving  me, 
he  will  injure  himself  more  than  me.'     The  ofiender, 
bursting  mto  tears,  begged  that  any  penance  judged 
fitting  should  be  laid  upon  him  in  prison  ;  that  lie  was 
prepared  for  any  thing,  his  sorrow  giving  him  more 
pain  than  any  penance  could ;  and  that  he  would  him- 
self yoluntarily  resign  his  benefice,  if  the  Bishop  thought 
proper.     *I  sliould  be  very  sorry  you  should  do  so/ 
replied  the  Saint;  '  the  more  so,  as  I  hope  that,  even  as 
the  falling  steeple  crushed  the  church  by  the  scandal  it 
gaye,  so,  replaced  upon  its  base,  it.  shall  henceforth  adorn 
it  by  its  virtues.'     Ihe  officers  yielded,  and  the  prison- 
doors  were  thrown  open.     After  being  suspended  d 
divinis  for  a  month,  he  resumed  the  exercise  of  his 
charge,  in  which  be  subsequently  gave  so  holy  an  ex- 
ample, that  the  Saint's  prediction  was  fulfilled.     As 
the  conversation  turned  one  day  in  his  presence  upon 
the  perversion  of  the  on«    and  the  conversion  of  the 
other,  he  uttered  these  mejuorable  v.  ords :  ^  Better  make 
penitents  by  gentleness  than  hypocrites  by  severity.' " 
Zeal  was  consequently  a  virtue  which  he  regarded 


IM 


ST.  FRAXCIS  DB  SALES. 


P  i.i 


■   >'.■    I    '•i-HW 


1:1 


with  much  mispicion :  "  Keeping  peacocks,"  he  would 
•ay,  "  ffood  mann(>-6rs  tell  us,  costs  more  in  a  country- 
place  tiian  it  profits  ;  for  ultliouj^h  they  devour  spidei-s, 
caterpillars,  mice,  and  sucli-like  vermin,  on  the  other 
hand  they  injure  roof's,  scare  away  the  pigeons  hy  their 
screams,  an((  heat  the  otlier  fowls." 

"  Sjwakinn;'  of  fraternal  coirection/*  says  M.  de 
Belley,  "our  olessed  Francis  often  |*;ave  me  an  impoii;- 
ant  lesson ;  I  say  often,  bocauso  he  i'ep<;!it('d  and  in- 
culcated it  frequently,  that  he  miglit  imprint  it  deeply 
on  mv  memory.  Tins  excellent  maxim  may  he  useful 
to  all,  hut  esi)ecially  to  those  who  rule  or  who  have 
the  charg-e  of  others.  ^  That  truth,'  he  said,  '  which 
is  not  charitable  proceeds  from  a  charity  which  is  not 
txue.'  A  faithful  saj^ing,  worthy  to  be  received  and 
deeply  pondered. 

"  lie  had  been  informed,  by  the  sure  report  of  wit- 
nesses who  had  both  heard  and  seen  what  they  related, 
that  when  I  entered  on  my  episcopal  charg-e  I  mani- 
fested, in  my  diocesan  visits,  a  zeal  both  severe  and' 
excessive,  or,  to  speak  more  clearly,  which  was  deficient 
i)oth  in  discretion  and  in  science ;  and  that  in  this  spirit 
I  administered  harsh  reproofs  couched  in  bitter  woi'ds. 
He  one  day  seized  a  pwouer  opportunity,  with  his  ac- 
customed pnidence,  discretion,  and  skill,  which  were  no 
less  admiral>le  than  his  g-entleness,  to  insinuate  into  my 
mind  this  g^olden  saying,  which  has  ever  since  remained 
so  deeply  eng^ven  there  that  I  have  never  fcrg-otten  ft. 

"  I  asked  our  Saint,  one  day,  how  we  mig-ht  be 
able  to  recognise  whether  the  correction  we  g-ave  pro- 
ceeded from  charity.  He  replied,  with  that  solidity  of 
judg;ment  which  served  as  a  guide  to  all  his  actions 
and  as  a  light  to  all  his  words,  *  Truth  proceeds  fi'om 
chanty  when  we  speak  it  only  from  the  love  of  God 
aad  for  the  good  of^  him  whom  we  reprove.  It  is  bettei 
to  be  silenv  than  to  speak  a  truth  ungraciously ;  for 
this  would  be  to  present  a  good  dish  badly  cocked,  or 
to  adiLimster  medicine  unseasonably.'  *  But  i?  not 
tiiit  to  detain  truth  a  pxisontr  unjustly?'     '  ^'^'-t^ulT 


^^■ 


i. 


ST.  FRA>XIS  D£  BALE». 


id? 


not ;  to  ftct  otherwise  would  be  to  bring*  it  fortli  un- 
justly ;  because  the  real  justice  of  truth,  and  the  truth 
of  justice,  resides  in  charity.  A  judicious  silence  in 
always  j)refei'able  to  an  uncharili^ble  w:"ith.' 

"  On  another  occasion,  in(juirin<;,-  of  our  Saint  fox 
some  other  mark  by  which  we  might  loiow  when  a  re- 
proof was  animatea  by  charity,  ho,  whose  heart  was  (so 
to  say)  alto«^ether  steeped  in  sweetness,  replied,  accord- 
ing to  the  s})irit  of  the  g-reat  Apostle,  ^  When  it  is  made 
in  the  spirit  of  meekness  (Gal.  vi.  1).  Gentleness  is, 
in  fact,  the  gi-eat  friend  of  charity,  and  its  insej)ai"abie 
companion.*  He  recommended  the  imitation  of  the 
good  Samaritan,  who  poured  oil  and  wine  into  the  poor 
man's  wounds.  It  was  a  favourite  S8yin«j  with  him, 
that  to  make  a  g-ood  salad  there  should  oe  more  oJ 
than  vinegar  or  salt. 

**  Here  is  another  of  his  remsikable  sayings  on  this 
subject,  which  he  repeated  to  me  several  times ;  *  Be 
as  gentle  always  as  possible ;  and  remember  tha    *  Jt 
will  catch  more  flies  with  a  spoonful  of  honey  i;hal 
with  a  hundred  barrels  of  vinegar ;  if  we  must  fall  into 
one  extreme  or  the  other,  let  it  be  into  that  of  sweet 
ness ,  no  sauce  was  ever  spoilt  by  too  much  sugar 
Such  is  the  natm*e  of  the  human  mind,  it  rebels  against 
severity,  but  gentleness  renders  it  amenable  to  every 
thing.     A  soft  word  appeases  anger,  as  water  extin- 
guishes fire.     No  soil  so  ungititeful  but  kirdness  can 
make  it  bear  fruit.    T^  speak  truths  sweetly  is  to  th/ow 
burning  coals,  or  rather  roses,  into  a  person's  &ce. 
How  can  any  one  be  angry  with  another  who  fights 
him  with  pearls  and  diamonds  ?    Reproof  Is  in  its  na- 
ture a  harsh  thing ;  but  cooked  in  sweetness,  and  so 
roasted  at  the  fire  of  chai'ity,  it  becomes  a  pleasant  and 
delicious  cordial.' 

^  *  But,'  said  I,  *  truth  is  always  truth,  however  it 
mtj  be  spoken,  or  however  it  may  be  received ;'  and  1 
armed  xnTself  with  that  text  of  St.  Paul  to  "nmothy. 
Prmeh  the  ward;  he  inetant  in  season^  out  qfteoioii; 
ttfirofoe,  entreaty  rebuke  in  all  patience  ana  ddfctrtMs 


:)n\    >1, 


\    ., 


A  '■!!«: 


tfr.  FRANCIS  DB  SALES. 


M 

(9  Tim.  IV  2).  'The  pith  of  this  apostohc  lesson/  he 
replied,  *  consists  in  these  two  words,  in  all  patience 
and  doctrine.  Doctrine  sij^ifies  truth,  and  this  tioith 
is  to  be  spoken  with  all  patience ;  tijat  is  to  say,  we 
must  endure  repulse,  and  not  fancy  tliat  it  is  always  to 
be  raceived  with  appIausG ;  for  if  the  Son  of  God  was  an 
object  of  contradiction,  His  doctrine,  which  is  thit  of 
truth,  must  be  signed  with  the  same  maik.  Every 
man  who  would  instruct  others  in  the  way  of  Justice 
must  make  up  his  mind  to  bear  their  caprice  and  in- 
justice, and  to  receive  ingratitude  as  his  payment.'  " 

While  so  careful  to  avoid  the  faulrs  into  which  the 
practice  of  this  difficult  duty  is  apt  to  lead,  St.  Francis 
well  understood  and  fulfilled  the  obligation  of  fraternal 
correction. 

"  This  good  father,"  observes  the  Bishop,  "  often 
reproved  me  for  my  faults ;  and  then  he  would  saj,  *  I 
expect  you  to  be  very  much  obliged  to  me  for  this ;  it 
is  the  greatest  mark  of  friendship  I  can  give  you ;  and 
I  should  look  upon  it  as  a  proof  of  your  love  if  yon 
would  do  the  like  for  me  in  return.  But  in  this  respect 
I  find  you  very  cold ;  you  ai*e  too  cautious ;  love  has  a 
bandage  on  its  eyes,  and  is  not  so  nice ;  it  goes  straight 
m  without  so  many  reflections.  It  is  because  I  love 
you  so  much,  that  I  cannot  endure  the  least  imper- 
fection in  you.  I  should  wif^h  my  son  to  be  such  as 
St.  ?aul  desired  to  see  Timothy,  blameless.  Things 
which  I  should  account  as  flies  m  one  who  was  not  so 
dear  to  me,  look  like  elephants  in  you  whom  I  truly 
love,  as  God  knows  I  do.  Would  not  that  surgeon  m 
to  blame,  and  be  rather  cruel  than  compassionate,  who 
should  allow  a  man  to  die  ibr  want  oi  the  resolution 
to  dress  his  wound  ?  A  strol*  o  of  the  tongue  in  season 
is  sometimes  as  profitable  for  the  soul's  health  as  a  cut 
of  the  lancet  for  that  of  the  body.  It  requires  some- 
times but  a  judicious  bleeding  to  save  a  man's  life,  or  a 
timely  reproof  to  preserve  a  soul  from  eternal  death.'  ** 

A  few  examples  of  St.  Francis's  loving  coiTection, 
iD  whioh  the  good  Bishop  gives  himself  up  to  justice  ia 


■  V 


IT.  VRAN0I8  BB  BALIS. 


1(» 


\ 


K 


ft  nost  delicious  manDer,  in  order  to  exhibit  the  meriti 
UKi  illustrate  the  spirit  of  liis  revered  fatliAr,  may  prove 
boti  instructive  ana  entertaining;. 

**  lie  had  been  told  tliut  I  was  extremely  long^  in 
makinn;>  my  prepamtion  for  saying  Mass,  which  was  a 
great  inconvenience  to  every  one.  Of  this  he  desired 
to  correct  me.  He  had  come  to  see  me  at  Belley,  ac- 
cording  to  our  annual  custom  of  visiting  each  other. 
It  so  liappened,  tiiat  wliile  at  my  house,  he  had  one 
moiTiing  to  send  otf  a  number  of  despatches,  which 
detained  him  in  his  own  room  to  a  late  hour.  It  was 
nearlv  eleven  o'clock,  and  he  had  not  yet  said  Mass. 
which  he  never  omitted  any  day,  unless  he  was  pre- 
vented by  illness  or  other  serious  impediment.  Down 
he  came,  then,  to  the  chapel  in  his  rochet  and  mozetta ; 
and  after  his  morning'  salutations  to  the  persons  he 
found  there,  he  proceeded  to  the  altar,  where  he  made 
a  short  prayer,  then  vested  himself  and  said  Mass. 
When  it  was  over,  ho  knelt  down  again,  made  another 
shoii;  prayer,  and  rejoined  the  company  with  a  face  so 
verene  that  ho  looked  to  me  like  an  angel,  and  con- 
tinued conversing  with  us  till  we  were  shortly  after 
summoned  to  table.  I,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  closely 
observing  all  his  actions,  felt  surprised  at  the  briefness 
of  this  preparation  and  thanksgiving^.  When  alone  with 
han  that  evening,  I  said  to  him,  with  the  confidence  of 
a  son,  *  My  father,  for  a  man  of  your  stature,  you  seem 
to  me  to  go  i-ather  fiist.  I  noticed  your  preparation 
and  thanksgiving  this  morning,  and  thought  them  both 
very  short. 

"  *  How  much  pleasure  you  give  me  !'*  he  exclaimed, 
embracing  me,  *  by  telling  me  wliat  you  think  frankly. 
"For  these  three  or  four  days  I  have  had  something  of 
a  like  sort  on  my  mind  to  say  to  you,  and  scarcely 

*  O  Dieu :  que  voua  me/aites  plaisir  I   The  exclamation^  hen 
•ad  eliewhero,  is  omitted  where  in  English  it  would  give  quite 
•nether  ohanu!ter  to  the  obserration.    The  name  of  Qod  ia  used 
fan  French,  without  the  smallest  irreverence,  on  common  ooe* 
iioni,  where  amongst  us,  i«  would  either  impart  an  air  of  io> 


iro 


iT.  FRANCIS  J}U  SALBS. 


'vmt^ 


H'. 


^  f 


;) 


1 

knew  how  to  introduce  the  subject.  Come,  what  htkH . 
jou  to  say  fcr  your  own  lenj^thinesses,  which  wearjr 
people  to  death?  Everybody  makes  loud  complaints 
jf  them;  possibly,  however,  this  has  never  reached 
your  ears,  so  few  persons  are  there  wlio  venture  to 
speak  the  truth  to  tlieir  prelates.  No  doubt  it  is  be* 
cause  no  one  here  loves  you  as  well  as  I  do  that  the 
commission  has  been  entrusted  to  me :  you  may  rely 
upon  it  I  have  very  sufficient  authority  to  support  me 
without  giving  up  my  credentials.  A  little  of  your 
excess  would  do  us  both  a  gfi-eat  deal  of  g-ood;  you 
would  get  on  somewhat  quicker,  and  I  should  not  gp 
80  fast.  Is  it  not  a  C'ood  ioke  that  the  Bishop  a 
Belley  should  reprove  the  B.ishop  of  Geneva  for  getting 
on  too  fast,  and  the  Bishop  of  oleneva  blame  the  Bishop 
of  Belley  for  going  too  slow  ?  Is  not  this  the  world 
turned  upside  down  ?  But  do  just  think  how  little  all 
your  fine  agiosy  and  all  those  Duffrages  and  acts  with 
which  you  are  busied  in  your  oratory  in  the  sacristy^ 
suit  the  people  who  have  come  to  hear  your  Mass ;  stil 
less  those  wuo  are  waiting  to  speak  to  you  on  business 
when  Mass  is  over.'  *  But,  my  father,'  I  rejoined 
'  bow  is  one  to  prepare  oneself  pro|)erly  for  offering-  the 
Holy  Sacrifice  ?  *  Why  do  you  not  make  your  pre- 
paration,' he  replied,  '  eai'ly  in  the  morning,  when  I 
know,  or  at  least  I  believe,  you  never  fail  in  the  exer- 
cise of  prayer?'  I  told  him  that  in  summer  I  rose 
at  fou«*;  ana  did  not  say  Mass  till  nine  or  ten  o'clock. 
'  Do  you  ima^ne,'  he  repHed,  *  that  an  interval  of  four 
or  five  hours  is  a  very  long  space  m  His  eyes  with  whom 
a  thousand  years  are  but  as  the  day  that  has  passed  ?' 
'But  the  tnanksgiying — what  of  that?'  'Wait  for 
jonr  fiTeaing  devotions  to  make  it.     Would  you  no^ 

lannity  aot  ia  aooordanoe  w^th  the  intention  of  the  rpeaker,  or 
•triks  tbe  ear,  jerhAog,  as  an  undue  familiarity.  Whatever  may 
be  th*  oaoM  or  this  oiserefMncy  between  the  English  and  most 
Ikwvign  tonfoas,  it  ia  an  indimutabln  fact,  which  must  be  taken 
It  in  trinriatioos  wnieh  would  rendar  the  true  spirU 


M 


•T.  FRANCIS  CB  8ALBS. 


171 


ladMdy  feel  it  necessary  to  oonsider  how  so  imfwrtant 
•n  action  had  been  performed,  when  making'  your  ex- 
amination of  conscience  ? — and  does  rot  thanksg'i  mncf 
form  a  part  of  examen  /  Both  these  duties,  then,  can 
be  disciiarg'ed,  and  that  with  more  leisure  and  tran- 
quilhty,  in  the  mornings  and  evening" ;  this  puts  no  one 
to  any  inconvenience,  and  enables  you  to  acquit  your- 
self of  them  better  and  more  thoroug;lily,  without  mter- 
fering"  with  the  functions  belon^ng*  to  vour  charge  or 
weaiying"  your  neio-hbour.'  *  But,'  I  still  objected,  *  will 
it  not  have  a  disedifying*  effect  to  see  all  this  despatched 
so  quickly,  since  God  does  not  wish  to  be  worsiiijiped 
on  the  run  V  *  We  may  in  vain  iim,'  he  said ;  *  God 
runs  faster  than  we  do.  He  is  a  S})irit,  who,  rising 
in  the  east,  shines  at  the  same  in  tant  in  the  west.  All 
is  present  to  Him;  with  Him  there  is  neither  past  noi 
fuiwre ;  whither  can  we  g-o  from  His  Spirit  ?  I  ac- 
quiesced in  his  advice,  and  have  found  the  advantages 
of  it. 

"  One  day  I  was  complaining  to  our  Saint  of  some 
grievous  wro"^.,  that  haa  been  done  me.  The  thing 
was  so  very  manifest,  that  he  agreed  to  the  ti*uth  of 
what  I  said.  Finding  myself  so  strongly  supjwrted,  I 
felt  triumphant,  and  grew  very  eloquent  in  dwelUng 
upon  the  justice  of  my  cause.  The  Saint,  to  put  a  stop 
to  all  this  superfluous  discourse,  ob.served,  *  It  is  true 
that  they  were  in  every  way  to  blame  for  treating  you  in 
this  manner ;  such  conduct  was  quite  unworthy  of  them, 
particularly  towards  a  man  of  your  condition.  I  see 
out  one  circumstance  in  the  whole  affair  to  your  dis- 
advantage.' *What  is  that?'  I  asked.  'That  you 
have  but  to  show  your  superior  wisdom  by  homing 
your  tongue.'  This  answer  so  struck  me,  that  I  was 
■ilent  at  onoe,  and  had  not  a  word  to  offer  m  reply. 

"  It  was  his  omnion,  that  the  true  servant  of  Ood 
■ddom  bx^r^plainea,  and  still  more  rarely  desired  to  be 
pitifld  by  others;  observing  that  those  who  complain 
to  ^  rr  friends,  that  they  may  be  pitied  m  return,  are 
1^      dldren,  who,  when  they  have  hurt  a  Anger, 


u 


m\ 


179  ST.  FRANCIS  UB  fiALEB. 

toothed  when  their  nurse  has  blown  upon  it,  or  pmtaudad 

to  CIT  tO( 

"  One  day  I  was  coTDpIaining  of  son' ;  great  and 
notable  affront  I  had  received.  *  To  any  or<o  else  but 
yourself/  he  replied, '  I  should  try  and  administer  some 
sootliing  dose  of  consolation ;  but  your  rank  ard  the 
love  I  bear  you  dispense  me  from  this  little  pittce  of 

JK>litenes8.  I  have  no  oil  for  your  wound ;  perh^ips  if 
'  tried  to  assuage  it,  I  mig-ht  ag'giiivate  the  mflamma- 
tion ;  I  have  nothing  but  salt  and  vinegar  to  apply  to 
it.  You  concluded  your  complaint  by  saying  that  it  re- 
quires a  prodigious  patience,  proof  against  every  thing, 
to  suffer  such  assaults  in  silence.  Certainly  yours  is 
not  of  a  very  firm  quality,  since  you  make  such  loud 
lamentations/  *  But,  my  father,'  I  rejoined,  *  it  is  only 
in  you:'  bosom  and  to  the  ear  of  your  iieart.  To  whom 
shall  a  child  have  recourse  when  he  is  vexed,  if  not  to 
his  kind  father  ?'  *  0  true  child,  indeed !  how  long  will 
you  love  childishness  ?  Does  it  become  him  who  is  a 
father  to  others,  to  whom  God  has  given  the  rank  of  a 
father  in  His  Church,  to  play  the  child  himself?  bt. 
Pav!  U'lls  us,  that  as  long  as  we  are  children,  we  may 
spf  F\k  as  such;  but  that,  when  grown  up,  the  stammer- 
mg  Umgde  wmch  suits  a  sucking  infant  is  unbecoming 
m  bim  who  is  no  longer  a  child.    Would  you  have  me 

give  J  ju  milk  and  oroth  instead  of  solid  meat,  and 
low  upon  your  hurt  like  a  nurse?  Have  you  not 
strong  enough  teeth  to  chew  bread — nay,  even  hard 
breac[--the  bread  of  affliction  ?  It  is  a  nne  thing,  in- 
deed, to  see  you  complaining  to  an  earthly  father  you 
who  ought  to  say  to  your  heavenly  father,  /  wa* 
dumbf  and  I  opened  not  my  mouthy  because  Thou  kasi 
done  t^*  But  voi}  will  say,  it  is  not  God  but  vxea, 
and  the  auemoly  of  the  malignant,  t  What !  cav 
yoi  not  discern  the  permissive  wiU  of  God,  vtdob 
makes  use  of  the  malice  of  men  either  to  correct  joo 
or  to  ezarcise  you  in  virtue?    Job  had  more  disjem 


SN 


*Fa.snvULia 


t  P«.  IxUL  i. 


ST.  FHANOIS  DE  f  ALBS. 


178 


MtBt;  for  ha  naid,  7^^  Lord  gavej  and  the  Lord  hafli 
town  away.*  He  dues  noi  shv,  the  devils  and  the 
toieTM;  he  looks  only  to  the  hand  of  God,  who  per> 
tonne  all  thinsps  by  whatever  instnimonts  He  pleases. 
You  are  very  tar  from  the  spirit  of  him  who  said  that 
the  rod  and  staff  with  which  God  struck  him  were  hie 
consolation ;  and  that  he  was  as  one  that  was  deaf  and 
dumb,  who  refrained  evaii  from  good  words,  which 
might  have  served  to  jus*  *"y  him  and  prove  his  inno- 
cence. But,  my  fatlio'  will  say,  smce  when  liuve 
you  become  so  sevei  -'»d  your  gentleness  into 
cruelty  ?  as  Jobf  said  Vnere  are  Tli^  ancient 
mercies  fX  Ceitainly  i.  u.  >:ission  is  as  Iresh  and 
new  as  ever;  for  God  kn  -ws  if  I  love  you,  or  if  I  love 
myself  better  than  you;  and  the  reproach  I  make  to 
vou  is  what  I  should  make  to  my  ow^n  soul,  if  it  had 
Droken  out  in  the  same  way.  Well,  I  forgive  you,  as 
a  matter  of  indulgence,  to  use  the  Apostle's  terms ;  but 
on  condition  that  you  will  be  more  coumgeous  for  the 
fiiture,  and  bhut  up  such-like  favours,  when  God  shall 
vouchsafe  them  to  you,  in  the  stiong  box  of  silence, 
without  letting  their  pei'fume  evaporate,  giving  thanks 
in  your  heart  to  your  heavenly  rather  for  bestowins 
upon  you  a  small  particle  of  His  Son's  cross.  What  i 
you  take  pleasure  in  wearing  a  g-olden  cross  on  youi 
bosom,  ana  you  cannot  bear  a  little  one  on  your  heart 
without  manifesting  it  by  yorr  complaints  ?  And  then, 
when  they  escape  you,  you  make  a  wonderful  appeal  to 
patience,  and  would  have  me  esteem  you  patient,  for- 
sooth, while  listening"  to  your  lamentations,  as  if  the 
great  effect  of  patience  were  to  hinder  one  from  taking 
revenge,  and  not  to  stop  complaints.  But  as  for  that, 
I  do  tnink  you  commit  an  en'or  ii  invoking  the  aid  ol 
•o  great  a  power  as  patience  in  the  insult  you  have  re- 
eeived.  It  is  too  noble  a  second  for  so  contemptible  a 
doflL    A  little  modesty  and  silence  might  suffic^v  yoi* ' 


•  Job  L  11. 

t  **  Thou  MTt  dumnd  to  b*  cmel  toward  mo.'* 

t  Fk  IxzxviiL  fiO 


^1 


1» 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


^^^, 
V 


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1.0 


I.I 


125 


u 


NO 


2.0 


I 


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ScMices 

Corporation 


s; 


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^V  ^.  "^ 


^:.*'i%  ^^ 


n  VraST  MAM  STRUT 

WIMTIR.N.Y.  UStO 

(7U)t7a-4S03 


■s 


.; 


liB.i ;    ■  h  .',1 1  M 


174 


•T.  VKAMOIS  DB  lALIt. 


ind  to  he  dtsmissed  me  with  this  brief  mortifiaiUoBi 
but  10  fortified  by  my  rebufP,  that  it  seemed  to  me,  m 
f  left  him,  that  ul  the  affironts  in  the  world  could  not 
haTe  eztraeted  a  word  from  me. 

**  To  a  woman  who  complained  to  him  that  when* 
ever  her  husband  enjoyed  good  healtli  he  went  to  the 
wars,  and  that  when  he  was  wounded  or  sick  he  canw 
back,  and  was  so  fretful  as  to  be  quite  unbearable,  he 
replied, '  What  sauce  can  we  find  to  suit  you  ?  'When 
he  is  well,  he  cannot  bear  to  stay  with  you,  nor  you 
with  him  when  he  is  ill.  If  you  loyed  each  other  only 
in  Qodf  you  would  not  be  subject  to  these  changes ; 
your  affection  would  be  always  the  same,  whether  ateent 
or  present.  Beg  this  ffrace  earnestly  of  God,  others 
wise  I  have  little  hope  ^at  you  will  enjoy  any  peace.' " 

But  if  the  charily  of  St.  fVancis  was  displayed  alike 
m  the  sweetness  and  the  sincerity  of  his  reproofs,  so 
also  was  it  manifested  in  tender  regard  for  the  reputa- 
tion of  his  neighbour,  and  in  his  unwillingness  to  be- 
lieye  evil  of  any  one. 

"  His  goodness  of  heart,"  says  M.  de  Belley,  **  was 
so  great  as  to  preyent  him  fix>m  thinking  ill  eyen  of  the 
ba£  He  did  all  he  could  to  coyer  the  defects  of  his 
neighbour,  sometimes  alleging  human  infirmity,  some- 
times  the  violence  of  temptetion,  sometimes  the  number 
of  those  who  were  guilty  of  similar  firalts.  When  these 
sins  were  so  public  ana  evident  that  it  was  impossible 
to  throw  a  veu  over  them,  he  took  refuge  in  the  future. 
*  Who  knows,'  he  would  say, '  whether  he  will  not  be 
converted?  and  who  are  we  that  we  should  judge  our 
brethiren  ?  If  God  did  not  uphold  us  with  His  grace, 
we  should  do  worse,  and  our  souls  would  already  be 
dwellers  in  hell.  The  greatest  sinners  sometimes  be* 
oome  the  greatest  penitents,  witness  David  and  so  many 
others;  and  their  penitence  edifies  more  persons  than 
the  scandal  they  gave  destroyed.  God  knows  how  to 
vaise  up  from  stones  children  to  Abraham.  The  won- 
derful changes  which  His  right  hand  effects  causea 
vesiels  of  i^ominy  to  become  vessels  of  honour*    He 


ST.  FRANCIS  DB  SALES. 


176 


would  hear  of  despair  of  smners'  oonTsrsion  to 
dMir  yery  last  breath,  ^y^gt  that  this  life  is  the  road 
of  our  pilgrimage,  in  which  those  who  stand  may  fall. 
and  those  who  rail  may  by  grace  rise  again.    He  went 
still  ftirther;  for  even  when  dead,  he  would  not  permit 
an  evil  judgment  to  be  foimed  of  such  as  had  led  an 
evil  life,  save  in  the  case  of  those  whose  damnation  is 
evident  from  Scripture.    With  this  exception,  he  would 
have  us  not  seek  to  enter  into  the  secret  of  God,  which 
He  has  reserved  to  His  wisdom  and  power.    His  prin- 
cipal reason  was  this,  that  as  the  first  grace  was  not 
within  the  reach  of  merit,  so  also  the  last  g^race,  final 
perseverance,  was  not  accorded  to  merit:  Who  hath 
nnanm  the  judgments  of  the  Lordf  and  mho  hath 
been  JBie  counsmor?*  Accordingly,  even  after  the  last 
breath  had  been  drawn,  he  would  have  us  hope  the  best 
of  the  deceased,  however  bad  a  death  he  might  seem 
to  have  made,  oecaose  we  could  but  ^und  our  con- 
jectures on  outward  appearances,  which  may  deceive 
the  most  acute.     Apnmos  to  this,  he  related  to  me  th» 
following  snecdute :  '  A  preacher  of  an  indulgent  dis- 
position, spealdng  of  the  heresiarohf  who  caused  the  re- 
volt of  the  Church  of  Geneva,  said,  that  we  must  not 
speak  decisively  of  the  damnation  of  any  one  after 
mth,  save  of  those  whom  Piripture  has  declared  to 
be  reprobate,  not  even  of  thav  heresiarch  who  was  the 
author  of  so  much  evil  by  his  errors.    For  who  knows, 
he  said,  whether  Ood  may  not  have  touched  his  heart 
at  the  moment  of  death,  and  whether  he  may  not  have 
been  converted  ?   It  is  true,  he  continued,  that  out  of  the 
Church,  and  without  tme  faith,  there  is  no  salvation ; 
but  who  knows  if  lie  did  not  in  his  heart  acknowledge 
the  truth  of  the  faith  he  had  opposed,  and  at  the  last  die 
truly  penitent?   After  having  kept  his  audience  thus  in 
suspense,  he  concluded  by  saying.  We  ought,  indeed,  to 
have  very  high  sentiments  of  the  goodness  of  God. 
Jssos  Christ  offered  His  peaoci  His  love  and  salvstioi^ 


•  Bon.  ^.  S4. 


fC^IfUi. 


■*, 


'.1    :V 


.'.'"ir. 


178 


■T.  VBA1I0I8  OB  SAL1 


9wm  to  the  traitor  wlio  betrayed  Him  with  a  kiss;  why 
may  He  not  have  oifHrefl  tiie  smm  grace  to  this  wretched 
heresiarch  ?  Is  God's  arm  shor  ened  ?  Is  He  become 
less  kind  and  less  merciful,  He  m  ho  is  meroy  itself,  and 
mercy  without  number,  measun),  or  Hmit?  But,  he 
added,  believe  me,  and  I  can  assure  you  I  speak  but  the 
truth, — if  he  was  not  damned,  he  had  as  narrow  an  es- 
cape as  ever  man  had ;  and  if  he  was  saved  ii'om  that 
everlasting  shipwreck,  he  owed  as  handsome  a  candle* 
to  God  as  ever  did  any  one  of  his  soit.'  This  lively 
•od  quite  unexpected  conclusion  did  not  draw  many 
'  tears  from  the  eyes  of  his  auditors. 

**  Our  Saint  was  in  the  habit  of  saying,  that  the  soul 
of  our  neighbour  is  the  tree  of  the  Icnowledspe  of  ^ood 
and  evil,  w  hich  we  aro  forbidden  to  touch  under  nam  of 
chastisement,  because  God  has  reserved  the  juagment 
.hereof  to  Himself.  He  observed  an  inconsistency  very 
eommon  amongst  men,  who  are  by  nature  inclmed  to 
judge  in  a  matter  wliere  they  p  %  ignoitrnt — namely, 
the  Ulterior  of  others,  while  the^  aie  averse  to  judging 
of  what  they  do  know,  or  ought  to  know — their  own 
interior,  llie  first  is  forbidden,  the  second  is  com- 
manded. In  this  they  resemble  a  ce  iain  woman,  who, 
having  made  a  point  all  her  life  of  doinp  precisely  the 
contrary  to  what  her  husband  desireo,  was  at  last 
drowned  in  a  river.  Her  hrsband  being  found  ft 
with  for  looking  for  her  bodj  in  the  contrary  direct  . 
to  the  current,  '  Do  you  t  Jieve,'  he  replied,  '  that 
death  will  have  deprived  hei  of  her  spirit  of  contradic- 
tion V  To  avoid  this  vice,  our  Saint  gave  t'>e  following 
excellent  rule :  If  an  act  may  be  viewed  in  a  hundred 
different  lights,  to  look  at  it  always  in  its  fairest.  If 
we  cannot  excuse  an  action,  we  may  soften  it  by  ex- 
cnnng  the  intention :  if  that  be  not  possible,  we  mntt 
Ikj  it  to  the  force  or  temptation,  tr  ignorance,  or  snr 
prife,  or  human  weakness,  so  as  at  least  to  strive  to 
diminish  the  scandal.    In  short,  he  said,  those  who 

*  An  aUasion  to  the  votite  ofbringk  mad*  by  saikf •  Mei^«4 
voin  ptnL 


If 

lUSt 

jBiir 

re  to 

who 


IT.  FRANCIS  DB  0ALB1.  177 

kmp  ft  wfttcb  over  their  conscience  eeldom  comm'.t  iht 
Hxit  of  rash  judgments.  It  is  the  act  of  an  idle  soul 
which  has  no  occupation  within  it»3lf,  to  stop  to  somti- 
nise  other  people's  actions." 

Here  is  a  specimen  of  his  cJdIl  in  ezonsinff  his 
neighbours.  **  I  was  finding  fault  to  him  one  day/  says 
M.  de  Belley,  ''with  some  little  country-gentlemen, 
who,  althou^n  as  poor  as  Job,  played  the  gref.t  lords, 
talking  contmually  of  their  nobility  and  the  high  deeds 
of  their  ancestors.  He  replied  with  wonderful  grace, 
'What  would  you  have?  Do  you  wish  these  poor 
^pie  to  be  doubly  poor  7  If  they  are  rich  in  honour, 
at  any  rate  they  tnink  less  of  their  poverty ;  like  that 
young  Athenian  who  was  under  the  mental  delusion 
that  be  was  the  richest  man  in  the  country,  and  having 
been  cured  of  his  madness  by  the  care  of  his  friends, 
eaused  them  to  be  prosecuted  tor  having  robbed  him  of 
his  pleasing  imagination.  What  woula  you  have  ?  It 
belongs  to  nobility  to  bear  up  with  a  high  spirit  against 
ill-forcune.  Like  the  elastic  palm,  it  rebounds  under  its 
burden.  Would  to  God  they  may  never  have  worse 
faults !  It  is  of  tliose  miserable  and  detestable  duels 
we  should  complain  ;*  and  he  said  this  with  a  sigh. 

"One  day,  as  persons  were  exclaiming  and  even 
using  vehement  invectives  against  a  very  scandalous 
fault,  although  one  of  infirmity,  committea  by  a  mem- 
ber of  a  religious  community,  he  said  nothing,  except, 
'  0  human  misery !  human  misery  !*  at  another  time, 
'  0  how  encompassed  we  are  with  infirmity !'  and  again, 
'  What  can  we  do  of  ourselves  but  sin  V  and,  '  We 
should  perhaps  do  worse,  if  God  did  not  hold  us  by  the 
right  hand,  and  lead  us  according  to  His  will.'  He 
was  in  the  habit  of  sayuig,  that  if  the  world  were  freed 
from  evil-speaking,  it  would  be  freed  from  a  very  large 
portion  of  its  sins,  for  of  all  sins  which  may  be  classed 
under  the  heads  of  thought,  word,  and  deed,  the  most 
frequent  and  the  most  dangerous  sometimes  are  those 
of  word :  and  this  for  many  reasons.  First,  because 
tins  of  thought  are  hurtful  only  to  him  who  oommite 


1,1  ( ■    (1  . 


:■  !  i 


•T.  FBANCIf  DB  SALBS. 

them,  and  are  the  occasion  of  neither  soaiidal,  irritatioBk 
nor  bad  example  to  others,  being  known  only  to  Ood 
whom  they  ofiend ;  and  so  a  loving  and  penitent  return 
to  God  emioes  them :  but  those  of  the  tongue  reach 
further;  the  word  once  pronounced  can  be  recalled  onlr 
oj  a  humble  retractation:  and  yet  our  neighbour's 
heart  has  none  the  less  been  infected  and  poisoned 
through  his  ear.  Secondly,  sins  of  deed,  if  of  any  note, 
are  liable  to  public  chastisement j  but  slander,  unless  it 
be  very  atrocious  and  disgraceful,  is  not  amenable  to 
pvmishment ;  hence  numbers  of  persons  fidl  into  this 
sin.  The  tmrd  reason  is  the  rareness  of  restitution  and 
reparation  in  this  matter;  those  who  have  the  conduct 
of  souls  being  too  indulgent^  not  to  say  lemissy  in  this 
respect 

**  It  pained  him  to  hear  any  one  call  a  person  bad 
on  account  of  some  single  reprehensible  act,  because 
yirtuous  habits,  he  said,  are  not  extinguished  by  one 
eontraiy  act;  for  instance,  we  cannot  call  a  man  a 
drunkard  on  account  of  one  solitary  act  of  intemperance, 
and  so  of  the  other  vices.  Hence,  when  he  heard  any 
sne  for  a  single  sin  taxed  with  the  coiresponding  vice, 
he  gently  remonstrated  against  the  accusation,  and  ob- 
served tnat  there  was  a  wide  difference  between  vice 
and  sin,  the  former  signifying  a  habit,  the  latter  an  act ; 
and  that  as  one  swallow  does  not  make  a  summer,  so  one 
solitary  sinful  act  does  not  rander  a  person  vicious,  that 
ih,  habituated  to  the  vice  an  act  of  which  he  has  per- 
formed.  But  if  so,  it  was  objected,  we  may  not,  on 
the  other  hand,  conclude  that  a  pei-son  is  in  a  state  of 
giace,  and  possesses  cliiirity,  however  holy  he  may  ap- 
pear in  his  actions.  He  re])Iied,  that  if  faith,  as  St. 
James  teaches,  is  known  by  works,  much  more  is  cha- 
rity, which  is  a  far  more  active  virtue,  works  being,  in 
relation  to  it,  like  sparks  whicii  reveal  the  existence  of 
fire ;  and  althoug-h,  wl:ren  we  witness  a  sin  confessedly 
mortal,  we  may  affirm  tiitit  the  pei-son  committing  it 
forfeited  the  "rracP  of  God,  how  can  we  tell  whether  Uod, 
A  moment  after,  did  not  touch  his  heart?  and  whetbv 


•T.  FRANCIS  i>B  lALBl. 


in 


atioA| 

>God 

retura 

reach 

donlT 

bourt 

isoned 

^Bote, 

ilesait 

ible  to 

to  ihii 

on  and 

ondnot 

inthii 

on  bad 
because 
by  one 
man  a 
lerance, 
Lrd  any 
ag  vice, 
and  ob- 
sen  vice 
an  act; 
80  one 
»U8,  that 
las  per- 
not,  on 
state  of 
nay  ap- 
as  ot. 
is  cha- 
teing,  in 
ence  of 
fessedl^ 
ittinr  it 
lerUod, 
whetbv 


te  did  not  torn  from  his  evil  wj^  by  an  act  of  eon- 
trition?  We  must,  therefore,  be  uj  fearful  of  judg- 
iB||^  ill  of  others ;  but  as  fp  judging  well,  we  mav  act 
with  perfect  Ireedom ;  beca.<M  charity  believes  and  nopei 
al!  good  of  its  neighbour,  thinks  no  evil,  and  rejoicee  in 
truUi  and  goodness,  but  not  in  iniquity." 

But  if  St.  Francis  was  an  enemy  to  slander  and  rash 
judgments,  so  also  was  he  to  the  uncharitable  practice 
of  personal  ridicule. 

''  When  in  society,"  says  M.  de  Bellqr,  '*  he  heard 
any  one  throwing  ridicule  on  another,  his  countenance 
testified  his  disuxe  of  the  conversation ;  he  would  in- 
troduce another  topic  to  create  a  diversion,  and  when 
he  could  not  succeed  by  this  method,  he  would  rise  and 
say,  *  This  is  trampling  too  much  on  the  good  man, 
and  passes  all  reasonable  bounds.  Who  gives  us  the 
riffht  to  amuse  ourselves  in  this  way  at  the  expense  of 
outers  ?  Should  we  like  to  be  treated  thus,  and  have 
all  our  foibles  dissected  by  the  razor  of  the  tongue  f 
To  bear  with  our  neighbour  and  his  imperfections  is  a 
ffreat  perfection,  and  it  is  a  great  impeHectinn  to  cut 
him  up  in  this  way  by  ridicule.'  With  reference  tc 
Uiis  practice,  he  said  tliat  it  was  one  of  the  worst  dis- 
positions a  mind  could  have;  that  God  exceedingly 
nates  tliis  vice,  and  punishes  it  in  remarkable  ways. 
One  day  a  young  lady  was  amusmg  herself  in  his  hear- 
ing with  quizzing  another's  want  of  beauty,  and  was 
laughing  at  some  natural  blemishes  with  which  she  had 
been  born;  ujion  which  he  quietly  observed,  that  it 
was  God  who  had  made  us,  and  not  we  oui-selves ;  and 
that  His  works  are  perfect,  But  the  lady  laughing 
still  more  at  his  saying  that  God's  works  wei-e  perfect, 
*  Believe  ue,'  he  said,  *  her  soul  is  more  upright,  more 
beauti.'jl  and  well-proporticnAd ;  be  sati^ified  that  I 
know  this  for  certam;  and  so  he  silenced  her.  On 
another  occasion,  some  one  laughing  in  his  presence  at 
the  deformed  appearance  of  an  absent  {lerson,  who  had 
not  only  «  hump  on  his  back  but  one  in  fi^nt, — he 
inikiadiatiXi;  took  bit  part,  alleging  the  same  Scriptun 


^'i 


;i  • 


■it 


in.  „. 


.'  1 


n  fT.  FBAHOM  Dl  UAtmL 

mj\n9f  that  Go(f  ■  works  are  perfect.  *  Hour  Mrfeei^' 
rqoined  the  other,  'with  so  imperfect  a  shape?'  The 
Saint  sweetly  answered,  'What!  do  you  not  beliera 
chat  there  are  perfect  humpbacks  as  well  as  persons 
perfectly  straig^nt?'  Beinj^  requested  to  explain  to 
what  kmd  of  perfection  he  alluded,  interior  or  exterior, 
he  Implied, '  It  is  enough ;  what  I  have  said  is  true ;  let 
us  talk  of  sozicthing  Mtter.* 

**  There  are  no  greater  enemies  to  human  society 
than  those  obstinate  and  self-opinionated  people  who 
are  continually  contradicting  others ;  they  are  the  pest 
of  conversation^  the  scourge  of  social  intercourse,  and 
sowers  of  dissension.  Mild,  condescending,  yielding, 
and  tractable  tempers,  on  the  other  hand,  who  readi^ 
give  way,  are  living  charms  to  attract  and  win  every 
body.  Our  Saint  commended  much  St.  Louis's  advice, 
never  to  contradict  anv  one,  unless  sin  or  some  con- 
siderable damage  would  be  the  result  of  abstaining. 
This  holy  king  did  not  say  this  from  human  prudence, 
of  which  he  was  the  enemy,  nor  according  to  the  pagan 
emperor's  maxim,  that  no  one  ought  to  leave  the  prince'^ 
presence  discontented,  but  from  a  truly  Christian  spiri* 
to  shim  disputes,  according  to  the  Apostle's  counsel,  whc 
would  have  us  carefully  avoid  all  contention." 

It  was  St.  Francis  s  opinion,  that  few  persons  are 
extremely  taciturn  from  a  virtuous  motive.  Here,  as 
in  aU  else,  his  sweet  and  gentle  spirit  led  him  to  adopt 
the  true  mean. 

**  One  day,  persons  were  taOdnff  before  him  of  a 
eertain  individual  who  would  pass  tor  a  great  man  by 
dint  of  silence.  *  If  so,'  said  our  Saint,  *  he  has  dis- 
covered the  secret  of  acquiring  a  reputation  at  a  cheap 
rate ;'  and  then,  after  a  pause,  he  added, '  No  one  re- 
sembles a  wise  man  so  much  as  a  fool  when  he  holds 
his  tongue.  Wisdom  does  not  consist  in  not  speaking, 
but  in  speaking  as  and  when  we  ought,  and  in  holding 
our  peace  in  proper  time  and  place.'  Some  persons,  out 
of  a  conscientious  but  unenlightened  zeal,  toe  moment 
they  dior*  to  give  themselves  to  the  practice  of  devo- 


» —  > 

•  Th€ 
beliert 
penoni 
lain  to 
zterior, 
ue;  let 

society 
)le  who 
Lbe  pest 
rse,  and 
rieldingy 
» readily 
in  every 
\  adyice^ 
me  con* 
staining. 
irudencCy 
leimgim 
ipnnce-B 
an  spiri* 
iselyWht 

•sons  are 
Here.ai 
to  adopt 

of  a 
man  by 
I  has  dis- 
a  cheap 
one  re- 
Ihe  holds 


ST.  FRANOIS  DB  BAtBS. 


Itl 


holding 
ins,  out 
moment 
ofdfv<» 


iAbb,  fimoy  they  must  shun  all  company  and  oouTsrsi^ 
lion,  w  owls  avoid  the  duy-bii'da,  and  by  this  strange 
Mud  austere  behavioiu'  inspire  others  with  an  aversion  to 
dovotion,  instead  uf  rendering  it  pleasing  and  attractive. 
vhir  Saint  did  not  tipprove  of  this,  but  wished  those 
who  practised  devotion  to  be  the  lij^ht  of  the  world  by 
their  good  example,  and  the  salt  of  the  earth,  to  impart 
«  caste  for  pietv  to  such  as  Incked  it.  But,  it  may  b(^ 
said,  if  the  saft  returns  to  the  ocean  from  whence  it 
was  drawn,  it  will  melt  and  become  dissolved.  True, 
but  also  if  you  do  not  mix  it  with  meats,  they  will  have 
Qo  savour. 

"  To  a  good  soul  who  asked  him  if  such  as  desire 
to  live  with  some  perfection  may  mix  with  the  world, 
he  made  this  reply :  *■  Perfection  does  not  consist  in  not 
seeing  the  world,  out  in  not  having  a  taste  or  relish  foi 
it.  All  that  sight  brings  is  danger,  for  he  who  beholds 
11  luns  some  risk  of  loving  it ;  but  to  him  who  is  forti- 
fied  by  a  good  and  firm  resolution,  it  does  no  harm. 
In  a  word,  the  perfection  of  charity  is  theperfection  of 
life ;  for  the  Ufe  of  our  soul  is  charity.  Tne  primitive 
Christians  lived  in  the  world  in  body  but  not  in  heart, 
and  were  nevertheless  very  perfect." 

''  Our  Saint,  by  the  help  of  gitice,  knew  how  to  unite 
in  his  person  two  admirable  qualities, — gravity  and 
sweetness.  He  knew  how  to  blend  with  the  ray  o\ 
majesty  and  honour,  which  grace  had  poured  up/^rs  his 
brow,  so  much  affability  and  sweetness,  that  you  wcxld 
have  said  it  was  another  Moses  who  veiled  his  beam- 
ing face  when  he  would  converse  familiarly  with  his 
brethren.  If  he  possessed  attractions  which  drew  per- 
sons to  love  him,  he  had  also  so  much  gravity  and 
modesty,  that  they  could  not  help  fearing,  or  at  least 
respectmg  him.  !uut  this  respect  was  so  fall  of  love, 
that  I  knew  of  many  who  qmte  trembled  when  they 
spoke  to  him ;  not  so  much  from  the  fear  of  displeasmg 
him  (for  nothing  displeased  him,  and  he  received  tho 
radest  persons  graciously),  but  for  fear  of  not  pleasing 
him  tDOQgh.    Iwill  tendidly  own  that  I  took  so  muoS 


* 
'     n 

i.-J 


Mi: 


13 : 


ill  1 1 


r^ 


^'., 


ii 


!     l! 


•T.  V1UN0IS  DB  tALBi. 

delifi^bt  in  doings  any  thing  to  please  him,  that  when  ba 
•▼inoed  any  satisfaction  with  me,  my  head  was  up  in 
the  stars;  and  if  he  had  not  taught  me  to  refer  all 
ultimately  to  God.  without  stopping  short  at  himself 
many  of  mv  actions  would  have  come  to  a  stand  in  the 
midst  of  t^eir  course.  As  for  his  sweetness,  it  was 
unknown  only  to  thoM  to  whom  he  himself  was  not 
known.  In  him  this  viitue  seemed  to  have  clothed 
itself  with  a  human  form ;  and  you  would  have  said  he 
was  gentleness  itself,  rather  than  a  man  endowed  with 
that  ((uality.  Hence  he  possessed  such  powerliii  in- 
fluence over  men's  minds,  that  all  gave  way  to  him ; 
and  as  he  condescended  to  each  individually,  making 
himself  all  thin}^  to  all  men,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  uO 
acquiesced  in  his  desire,  which  was  no  other  than  to 
behold  them  all  embarked  in  the  service  of  God  and 
tho  ways  of  salvation." 


tn  SAXirr*B  oranows  aboct  pbsaohiiio  akd  oohtbovbbst. 

AMD  BIS  MBTUOO  IM  OKALINO  WITH  UiaBTlCS. 

Any  notice  of  the  spirit  of  St  Francis  of  Sales  would 
be  incomttlete  without  a  few  extracts  regarding  these 

eints,  which  are  naturally  connected  witli  each  other, 
is  extraordinary  success  us  a  preacher  makes  every 
Hint  on  this  subject  extremely  valuable.  Here,  as  in 
every  thing  else  which  api)ertains  to  him,  we  find  the 
■ame  spirit  of  sweetness,  simplicity,  and  sincerity.  A 
few  anecdotes  will  illustrate  these  characteristics.  We 
will  head  them  by  an  amusing  incident  related  by  the 
candid  Bishop,  wlio,  in  his  Mmiration  for  the  mode) 
before  him,  fell  into  the  mistakj  of  labouring  after  tn 
external  copy  of  the  Saint's  manner  in  the  piupit. 

**  I  entertained  so  high  an  esteem  of  him,  that  aB 
bii  ways  enchanted  me.  I  took  it  into  my  bead  to 
imitate  his  style  of  preaching.  Do  not  ima^pine,  bow* 
erer,  that  I  aspireu  to  imitate  bim  in  the  haight  of  hii 
thoughta,  in  the  profundity  of  bia  doctrine,  in  the  poim 


» 


ST.  f  RANG!!  Dfi  tALtt. 


16$ 


lit  aD 
id  to, 
how* 


t 


> 


if  hii  rsafoning^,  in  the  soundness  of  his  judg-ment,  io 
the  tenderness  of  liis  lanprimf^e,  in  the  perfect  ord(>r  and 
oonnection  which  rei^pted  in  his  sermons,  and  in  that 
incomparable  sweetness  which  could  remove  the  yery 
rooks  from  their  foundations.  All  that  was  beyond  my 
reach.  I  was  like  those  flies  which,  unable  to  walk  on 
the  polished  surface  of  a  mirror,  betake  tiiemsulves  to 
the  frame.  I  amused  myself,  and,  as  vou  will  hear,  I 
deceived  myself,  in  strivfng  to  adopt  his  exteimal  ac- 
tion, his  g'estui'es,  and  pronunciation.  In  him  all  tliif 
was  slow  and  quiet ;  mine  bein^  naturally  the  reverse, 
I  underwent  so  strang'e  a  metamori)husis,  that  no  one 
would  have  known  me ;  it  was  no  longer  I  myself.  I 
had  s|K)ilt  my  own  orig'innl,  to  make  a  very  bad  copy 
of  him  whom  I  wished  to  imitate.  Our  Saint,  who  had 
been  informed  of  all  this  proceeding,  said  to  me  one 
day,  after  making  approaches  to  the  subject  for  some 
time,  *  Apropojt  to  sermons,  I  have  heard  a  piece  of 
news :  I  am  told  vou  have  taken  a  funcy  to  mimic  the 
Bishop  of  Geneva  s  preachin**'.'  I  defended  myself 'I'om 
this  cliarg^  by  replying,  'Well,  and  iiave  I  chosen  so 
bad  a  pattern  after  all  /  Do  you  not  think  he  preaches 
better  than  I  do  ?'  *  Ah !  come,'  he  n^joined,  *  here  la 
•  personal  attack.  Well,  certainly,  he  does  not  preach 
ill ;  but  the  worst  is,  that  I  am  told  that  you  imitate 
him  BO  badly,  that  people  can  make  nothing  of  it  but 
A  very  imperfect  attempt,  which  spoils  the  Bishop  of 
Belley,  without  reprasenting  the  Dishop  of  Geneva; 
10  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  follow  the  example  of 
that  bad  painter,  who  used  to  write  the  names  of  the 

Crsons  wiiose  poilraits  he  had  taken  under  the  facea 
had  daubed.  'Let  him  alone/  I  retoited,  *  and  yon 
will  see  that  by  degrees  he  will  rise  fi'om  the  rank  oi 
wppnatice  to  that  of  a  master ;  and  that  in  the  end  hia 
Mpiea  will  pass  for  oriffiuals.'    '  Joking  apart,'  he  r»- 

Ced, '  you  spoil  yoursdf,  and  pull  down  a  good  bnild* 
1^,  to  reconstruct  another  against  all  the  rulea  of  nn^ 
tnre  and  art;  besides,  at  tout  ag«,  iuppoeinr  jou  htfi 
fontraoted  •  bad  creaM,  fike  a  piece  ox  doth,  yon  wiD 


*fl.hil 


iT.  FBlNOIf  SB  lALHL 

wi  Hud  h  tfuj  to  f^et  rid  of  it.  0,  if  it  were  poaibk 
to  exchange  qualities,  wliat  would  I  not  c^ve  for  yourt  1 
I  do  what  I  can  to  move  and  stir  myself  up  to  a  little 
rapidity;  but  the  more  I  lal)our,  the  slower  I  (ret  on. 
I  iiaTe  a  difficulty  in  finding'  words;  more  still  in  pro- 
nouncing them.  I  am  heavier  than  the  old  stump  of  a 
treo;  I  can  move  neither  myself  nor  others;  I  iiei-suire, 
it  is  true,  a  great  deal,  but  mnke  very  little  way.  You 
get  on  full  sail,  I  by  dint  of  oars ;  you  fly,  I  crawl  or 
creep  along  like  a  tortoise;  you  hnve  more  fire  in  your 
fingers'  ends  than  I  have  in  my  whole  body, — a  won- 
derful rapidity,  and  the  liveliness  of  a  bird;  nud  now  I 
lear  that  you  weigh  your  words,  measure  your  |)i!riod9, 
drag  your  wines ;  that  you  droop  and  ting,  und  make 
Tour  nearers  ao  the  same.'  J  can  tell  you  that  thii 
^ose  was  so  effectual,  that  it  freed  me  from  this  plea- 
•ant  error,  and  sent  me  back  to  my  old  ways." 

His  love  of  a  holy  simplicity  and  sincerity  is  dit- 
played  in  several  other  charitable  lessons  which  the 
good  Bishop  records  as  having  received  at  his  hands. 

"One  day  I  was  to  preacli  at  the  Visitation:  and 
being  aware  that  our  Saint  would  be  present,  ana  that 
t  large  concourse  was  ex[>ected,  I  must  own  that  I  had 
felt  a  little  personal  anxiety  on  the  occasion,  and  had 
prepared  in  good  earnest.  When  wo  had  retired  to  his 
Qouse,  and  were  alone  together, '  Well,'  he  said,  *  you 
have  given  general  satisfaction  to-day;  people  went 
away  exclaiming  mirahilia  at  your  fine  and  eloquent 
panegyric.  I  only  met  with  one  individual  who  was 
not  satisfied.'  '  What  can  I  have  said,'  I  replied,  '  to 
f  hock  this  person's  mind  ?  for  I  have  no  desire  to  know 
his  name.*  *  But  I,  for  my  part,'  he  rejoined, '  have  a 
great  desire  to  tell  it  ym.  *  Who  is  he,  then,  that  I 
may  endeavour  to  give  him  satisfaction  V  '  If  I  had 
not  great  confidence  in  you,  I  should  not  name  him ; 
but  as  I  know  you  well,  1  willingly  do  so.  Do  you  see 
him  heref  I  looked  round,  ana  saw  no  one  but  him- 
•df.  '  It  is  you,  then/  I  said.  ^  Myself,'  he  replied. 
'  CSertainly/  1  rejoined ;   '  I  should  Have  valued  youi 


•t.  f  lUNOIt  DM  lALBt. 


181 


•f 


( 


ab^le  tpnrolwtion  more  than  that  of  the  whole  oongra> 
fation.  Thank  Ood,  I  have  fallen  \:i\o  the  hands  of 
one  who  wounds  only  that  he  may  heal !  What,  then, 
did  you  find  fault  with  ?  for  I  know  that  your  indid* 
genoe  will  not  excuse  any  thing:  in  me/  *  I  love  yon 
too  much/  he  resumed,  'to  flatter  you;  and  if  yoo 
had  loved  our  sisters  after  thu  fashion,  you  would  not 
have  amused  yourself  in  puffink  up  their  minds,  instead 
of  edifVing  them;  in  pitusing  tLjr  state  in  life,  instead 
of  teacning  them  some  humiliating  and  more  salutary 
dootrine.  It  is  with  the  food  of  the  mind  as  with  tha^ 
of  the  hody.  Flattery  is  windy;  and  windy  food,  hk» 
vegetahles,  is  innutritions.  We  ought  in  preaching  to 
provide,  not  empty  food,  the  memory  of  which  periiuiea 
with  its  utterance,  but  meat  which  will  endure  to  life 
everlasting.  We  must  never,  indeed,  ascend  the  pulpit, 
without  the  special  object  of  building  up  some  comei' 
or  other  of  tue  walls  of  Jenisalem,  by  teaching  the 
practice  of  some  virtue,  or  the  avoidin^^  of  some  vice; 
for  the  whole  fruit  of  preaching  consists  in  the  eradi- 
cating of  sin,  and  the  planting  of  justice.  0  Lordt  ex- 
claimed David,  Infill  teach  the  iinjtut  Thy  wayty  ana 
the  wiehed  shall  be  converted  unto  Thee,*  *  What 
sort  of  conversion,'  I  retorted, '  could  I  preach  to  souli 
delivered  from  the  hands  of  their  enemies,  the  devU, 
the  flesh,  and  the  world,  and  serving  God  in  holiness  r 
*  You  ought  to  have  taught  them,"  he  said, '  to  taJce 
heed,  since  they  stand,  not  to  fall ;  to  work  out  their 
salvation,  according  to  the  counsel  of  the  Holy  Spirit^ 
Kith  fear  and  trembling ;  and  not  to  be  without  fear, 
even  with  respect  to  forgiven  sin.  You  described  them 
to  us  as  so  many  saints;  it  costs  you  nothing  to  o»> 
nonise  the  living.  You  must  not  place  pillows  under 
elbows  in  this  way,  nor  give  milk  to  those  who  need 
bitter  herbs  and  wormwoml.*  '  My  object,*  I  said,  'waa 
to  moanrm  and  fortify  them  in  their  holy  undertak- 
iiifr*'    '  We  must  enoouragey*  he  repUed, '  without 


•  Fm]mL1& 


i- 


yi-M  ! 


f.' 


;»■■■ 


m 

pi 
It 


ii.J 


r," 


:!.;i 


i  1'  ; 


180 


■T.  PRANOtS  i>B  SALSi. 


nioff  the  risk  of  ezcitin?  presumption  and  TSiii^.  1% 
li  lijWRys  safer  to  liiimLle  our  keai'en,  than  to  exalt 
them  to  higfh  and  admirable  things  above  their  roach. 
I  fuel  perauaded  that  another  time  you  will  be  cautious 
in  this  re8])ect/ 

**  The  next  day  he  made  me  preach  at  a  convent  of 
the  nuns  of  St.  (Jlare.     He  was  present,  and  the  con- 

Sragation  was  not  less  numerous  than  on  tlie  preceding 
ay.  I  took  care  to  avoid  tlie  pittail  he  had  pointed 
out  to  me:  my  discourse  was  very  simple,  both  in 
words  and  ideas,  aiming'  at  notbing  except  edifieution. 
I  proceeded  with  much  method,  and  pressed  home  my 
•uoject  Ou>-  Saint,  on  our  return,  came  to  see  me  in 
my  apartment,  «hich,  in  fact,  was  his  own;  for  when 
I  was  on  a  visit  to  him,  be  always  gsive  me  up  his 
room.  After  tftnderly  emhacing  me,  'Truly,'  he  said, 
*  I  loved  yot  deai-ly  yesterday,  but  much  more  to-daj. 
You  are,  indeed,  quite  after  my  own  heart*,  and  it  I 
am  not  much  misttiken,  you  ai-e  also  according  to  God's 
heart,  who,  I  believe,  has  lieen  pleased  with  your  sacri- 
fice. I  could  nut  have  beiif'Ved  you  would  have  been 
80  yielding  and  condescending.  It  is  a  tine  saying, 
that  the  obedient  inan  xhall  irpeak  of  victory.*  You 
have  conquered  yourself  to-day.  Do  you  know  that 
most  of  your  heai-ers  said,  "To-day  "is  very  unlike 
yesterday,"  and  they  were  not  as  much  pleased  tbis 
time  as  the  last ;  but  the  individual  who  was  not  satis- 
fied yesterday  is  wonderfully  i>leased  to-dav.  I  grant 
you  hereu]»on  a  plenary  indulgence  for  all  your  past 
faults.  You  have  fulhlled  all  my  wishes  to-day;  and 
if  you  persevere,  you  will  do  much  service  fur  the  Lord 
of  the  vineyard.  Preaching  must  not  seek  its  strength 
in  the  words  and  the  notions  of  human  wisdom,  but  u: 
the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and  of  power.  If  you 
faithiiilly  adhere  to  this  method,  God  will  give  to  yoni 
labours  a  full  and  honourable  increase ;  you  will  beooma 
prodant  in  the  words  of  mystical  wisdom,  and  will  pot* 


♦  Prov.  uO.  n 


ST.  FRANCIS  DB  1ALB8. 


187 


tb«  wienee  of  the  saints,  the  science  that  makes 
saints.  What,  after  all,  do  we  desire  to  know,  save 
Jesus,  and  jesus  cniciHed !' 

**  When  he  heard  people  talk  of  preachers  who  did 
wonders,  he  would  ask,  *Iluw  many  has  their  preaching 
converted  ?  for  the  conversion  of  souls  is  a  more  mira- 
cidous  work  than  the  resuii-ection  of  the  dead,  since  it 
is  a  passag'e  from  the  death  of  sin  to  the  life  of  grace.' 
If  it  was  replied,  that  the  wonders  alludod  to  were  elo- 
quence, science,  memory,  striking  manner,  and  other 
cuaracteristics  of  a  great  speaker, — ^Thnse  qualities,'  ha 
would  say,  *  are  those  of  a  worldly  onitor,  and  can  be 
acquired  by  human  diligence ;  biit  they  ap{M>r^ain  not 
to  those  on  whom  the  Holy  Spirit,  which  bv  been 
conferred  upon  them,  has  {wuitid  tiiH  science  of  the  lan- 
guage of  heaven,  which  is  the  science  of  salvatioi*  and 
of  the  saints.' 

'*When  any  one  said  a  preacher  was  succeedins 
rery  well,  he  would  ask  in  what  virtues  he  excelled, 
whether  in  humility,  in  mortiHoition,  in  sweetness,  in 
courage,  in  devotion,  and  such  like.  On  being  told  that 
it  was  good  preaching  which  was  meant,  'That,'  he 
would  rejoin,  *  is  saying,  not  doing.  The  one  is  much 
easier  than  the  other.  How  many  there  are  who  say, 
and  do  not — who  pull  down  by  their  bad  exiimp^ 
what  they  have  built  up  with  their  tongue!  Is  not 
that  man  a  very  monster,  whose  tongue  is  longer  than 
his  arm?'  Some  one  observed  of  a  preacher,  *  He  has 
done  wonders  to-day.'  He  replied, '  He  who  has  done 
wonders  is  the  man  who  is  found  without  s{K>t — who 
has  not  followed  after  gold,  nor  placed  his  hofM  in 
worldly  treasure.'    To  another,  who  said  of  a  certam 

Sreaeher  that  he  had  even  soared  above  himself,  *  What 
iterior  self-sacrifice  has  he  achieved  V  was  his  reply ; 
'  what  injury  has  he  endured  ?  It  is  upon  such-liks 
oocasions  that  we  surmount  ourselves.  Would  you 
know  whence  I  infer  the  excellence  and  merit  of  a 
inrcMher?  It  is  when  those  who  come  away  strike 
Uiiir  kratiti,  saying,  /  will  do  well;  not,  Jiow  w§tt 


Ihil 


■u  .  •  i 


.  i  I 


F'i . ! 


li 


Mm 


Ifii 


168  IT.  FRAMOIS  OB  AALBft. 

he  has  aotu!  When  the  sermon  is  over,  do  not  amuM 
Tourself  with  attending  to  those  rain  popular  plaudits, 
How  well  he  has  acquitted  himself!  What  an  eloquent 
tongue !  What  profound  knowledge !  What  an  admirable 
memory!  What  a  fascinatiDg  preacher!  vVhat  a  pleasure 
it  is  to  listen  to  such  a  man !  I  never  had  such  a  treat 
in  all  my  life !  All  this  is  empty  babble,  proceeding 
from  minds  that  lack  judgment.  Christian  preachers, 
St.  Jerome  tells  us,  ou^ht  not  to  have  recoui'se  to  the 
arts  of  the  rhetorician,  Ijut  should  use  the  simple  lan- 
guage of  fishermen ;  that  is,  of  the  Apostles.  If  St 
Paul  condemns  hearers  with  itching  ears,  how  much 
more  preachers  who  scmtch  them  b)r  their  choice  words, 
rounded  periods,  and  studied  compositions!  But  i^ 
upon  cominff  out  from  the  sermon,  you  should  meet 
with  any  who,  hke  the  centunon,  say.  Truly  this  man 
is  of  God ;  he  preaclies  Jesus  Christ  cmcifiea,  not  him- 
•elf ;  he  teaches  us  to  repent  of  our  sins ;  it  will  not  be 
his  fault  if  we  do  not  turn  from  oiu>  evil  ways ;  this 
sermon  will  rise  against  us  at  the  day  of  judgment,  if 
we  do  not  profit  oy  it :  or  if  they  say,  0,  how  neces- 
sary is  penance  for  salvation  I  how  lovely  is  virtue ! 
how  sweet  is  the  burden  of  the  cross !  how  Ught  the 
yoke  of  God's  law!  how  hideous  and  detestable  a  thing 
18  sin  I  rather  let  us  die  than  sin  :  or  if,  without  using 
so  many  words,  the  hearers  testify  to  the  fiiiit  of  the 
preaching  by  amendment  of  life,  you  may  then  judge 
of  the  gtiodness  and  efficiency  of  the  preacher,  not  tc 
his  glory,  but  to  the  glory  of  Him  that  sent  him, — ^to 
the  glory  of  God,  who  speaks  by  his  mouth,  and  fiUt 
him  with  His  Spirit.' 

"In  proof  of  this,  he  told  me  the  following  anec- 
dote :  'A  very  celebrated  preacher  came  to  Annecy;  I 
begged  him  to  prf>ach ;  he  consented ;  and  setting  off 
in  a  high  style,  he  propounded  his  sublime  notions  in 
SQoh  pompous  language,  and  with  such  a  display  of 
eloquence,  that  our  good  mountaineers  were  quite  as- 
tonished. As  they  came  out,  nothing  was  to  be  heard 
hnt  eijirissions  of  delight  and  admiration.    Never 


■T.  rRANOIS  DB  SALIS. 


180 


M  ani^b  {noense  of  praise  offered  to  mortal  man :  thej 
▼ied  with  each  other  m  their  applause,  ana  in  crying  him 
up  to  the  skies.  Knowing  well  how  much  this  discourse 
waa  above  the  comprehension  of  its  admirers,  I  took 
■ome  of  them  aside,  and  questioned  them,  to  discoyer 
how  muf  h  they  had  retained  of  it,  and  what  particular 
profit  they  had  derived  from  it.    Not  one  of  them  could 
tell  me  a  word.    One  more  mgenuous  than  the  rest  re> 
plied :  *<  If  I  had  understood  it,  and  could  retail  it  to  you^ 
that  would  show  that  he  had  said  nothing  uncommon. 
It  is  our  ignorance  which  excites  our  aiuniration ;  foi 
he  talked  of  such  high  and  lofty  things,  that  they  wera 
quite  beyond  our  reach;  and  this  makes  vm  bave  a 
rreater  esteem  for  the  mysteries  of  our  religioi.'* '   Our 
Saint  praised  his  candour,  and  acknowledged  that  he 
had  derived  some  sort  of  profit  from  the  sermon.  Spring 
flowers  are  not  enough,  if  they  are  not  followed  by  au- 
tumn fruit.    The  preacher  wuo  has  only  the  leaves  ai 
language  and  fine  thoughts,  is  in  peril  of  being  classed 
among  those  unfruitful  trees  who  are  threateuMl  in  the 
Goepu  with  the  axe  and  the  fire.    J  have  chosen  you, 
■aid  our  Lord  to  His  Apostles,  that  you  should  go  and 
Irimafyrthjruitf  and  ymir  fruit  Mould  remain,*** 

ALde  Belley  mentions,' that  m  the  early  days  of 
his  episcopate,  Demg  yet,  as  he  says.  ''  very  green** 
(having  by  the  speoal  dispensation  of  the  Pope  been 
oonsecrated  under  the  age  prescribed  by  the  canons), 
and  having  his  mind  yet  freshly  stored  with  his  school 
knowledge  and  with  elegant  litertture,  for  which  he 
had  a  particular  turn,  he  brought  forth  a  redundancy 
of  such  matter  fi'om  the  treasures  of  his  memory.  It 
was  upon  the  occasion  of  his  being  in<ated,  in  1610, 
to  preach  the  Lent  before  the  Senate  of  Savoy,  in 
Ghambery,  the  capital  city  of  that  province,  that  it 
was  reported  to  our  Saint,  who  was  at  his  episcopal 
feeidence  at  Annecy,  only  seven  leagues  distant,  tnal 
(to  eontinuf  in  the  Bishop's  own  wonis)  his  ''diaoooN 


*  John  XT.  It. 


190 


•T.  PHANOIS  DB  SAi.llt. 


nhM 


nm 


I  "> 


CiiM 


llil 


were  all  flowers  and  perfume,  which  attracted  erowdi 
of  hearers,  like  bees  which  cluster  round  sugar  and  ho- 
ney. He,  however,  who  judged  aftei  quite  a  different 
fbshion,  and  who  was  well  skilled  in  this  art,  would 
have  desired  to  see  me  draw  mora  upon  the  divine  Scrip 
tures  than  on  human  letu^rs ;  he  would  have  wished  for 
more  of  the  soUd  spirit  of  piety  than  display  of  spiritual 
expressions  eloquent  with  numan  wisdom.  Whereupon 
he  wrote  me  a  beautiful  letter,  in  which  he  apprised 
me,  that  the  odour  which  my  sweet  spices  exhaled  had 
reached  even  to  him,  so  that  he  compared  himself  to 
Alexander,  who,  sailings  towards  the  Foi'tunate  Islands, 
was  made  awara  of  iueir  neighbourhood  by  the  fra* 
ffrance  which  the  wind,  sweeping  over  the  smooth  sur^ 
race  of  the  sea,  wafled  to  his  vessels.  After  havins 
thus  concealed  the  point  of  his  lancet  in  this  oiled  and 
perfumed  cotton,  he  stuck  it  in  by  telling  me  that,  after 
■0  many  messengers,  who  every  day  brought  him  word 
that  our  bed  was  all  strewed  with  verdura,  our  fiimi* 
tura  of  cedar  and  Cyprus, — that  our  blossoming  vines 
wero  spreading  their  sweetness  on  all  sides, — that  our 

don  was  full  of  nothing  but  flowers, — that  it  was 
^  bing  sprinp'time  all  around  us, — he  was  expecting 
others  to  give  him  news  of  summer  and  autumn,  of  the 
harvest  and  the  vintage.  '  I  am  lictening,'  he  said, '  to 
hear  anJlore»/rvctiupartvriant  ,*'*  telling  me  that,  afler 
all,  he  fwlvifiied  me  to  strip  my  vine  of  its  superfluous 
tendiila  of  belles-lettre/h—tempus  putationis  venit  ;f  to 
prune  and  retrench  from  it  so  many  foreign  oniaments ; 
and  that,  although  it  was  allowable  to  use  the  vases  of 
the  Egyptians  for  the  service  of  the  tabernacle,  C  ought 
to  be  with  sober  moderation ;  that  Hachel  was  indeed 
fairer  than  Lid,  but  that  Lia  was  mora  fniitliil ;  that 
the  Oosiiel  ought  to  Ije  ex})oun(ied  in  conformity  with  its 
own  stvie  and  simplicity;  that  red  ami  white  fmint  ill  be* 
came  the  face  of  theology ;  and  that  we  ougiit  to  beware 
of  adulterating  the  Word  of  God  much  more  than  the 

*  Whether  the  flowers  Are  bringing  forth  fruits. 
t  **  Th«  tiuM  9f  pruning  U  oome."  C»n(iclM  it.  \% 


iT.  nuiroit  ob  malsm,  Itl 

tfUTOit  coin ;  to  whiob  he  added  many  other  similar  in* 
■tructions,  which  had  the  effect  of  making  me  much 
more  resenred,  much  less  liberal  of  those  viands  which 
are  rather  empty  than  solid,  and  much  more  careful  to 
hibour  for  that  meat  which  perishes  not,  and  whion  the 
Qospel  so  8ti*ongly  recommends  to  us. 

"  It  was  his  opinion,  that  it  was  not  sufficient  that 
the  preacher  should  have  a  general  intention  of  in- 
structing in  the  ways  of  God,  out  that  he  should  aun 
at  some  special  object ;  for  instance,  the  knowledge  ol 
some  mystery,  the  exposition  of  some  article  of  faith, 
the  destruction  of  some  vice,  or  the  estabUshment  of 
some  virtue.  '  You  would  hardly  believe,*  he  said, 
'how  important  is  this  advice,  and  now  many  laboiured 
and  studied  sermons  are  profitless  for  want  of  point. 
If  you  will  follow  this  maxim,  your  sermons  will  pro- 
duce much  fruit;  if  vou  neglect  it,  you  may  reap  ad 
mu-ation  for  yourself,  but  others  will  derive  no  be- 
nefit." 

''  He  approved  extremely  of  shortness  in  sermonSi 
and  said  that  lengthiness  was  the  most  general  defect 
of  the  preachers  of  his  day.  '  Do  you  call  that  a  de- 
fect,' said  I,  *  and  thus  ^ve  to  plenty  the  name  ol 
scarcity?'  '  When  the  vme,'  he  replied, '  produces  a 
rreat  deal  of  wood,  then  it  is  that  it  bears  the  least 
Sruit  A  multitude  of  wonls  never  produces  a  great 
effect.  Obsei've  all  the  Iiomilies  ana  sermons  of  the 
ancient  fathers — how  short  they  are ;  but  0  how  much 
more  eilicacious  they  were  than  ours  *  The  good  St. 
Francis,  in  his  rule,  enjoins  upon  the  preachera  of  his 
Order  to  be  brief,  and  ndihices  this  reason  —that  God 
had  made  a  short  word  vpon  the  earth*  Believe 
me,'  he  said,  *  I  sjieak  from  experience,  and  from  very 
bug  ex))erience ;  the  more  you  say,  the  less  will  be 
rememliered;  the  more  you  sny,  the  less  will  your 
hearers  profit.  By  dint  of  overfoading  their  memory, 
foil  malu)  it  breuk  down ;  as  lauips  are  put  out  by  tot 


•Bob.  Is.  ML 


m>.    I- 


199 


■T.  nUHOIB  DB  lAUk 


•i»  h: 


*'!?M' 


:* 


;'t3^ 


1-'. 


\l 


!ii 


W  5  "ill, 


)      1 


<      li: 


much  oil,  and  plants  an  stifled  by  too  mnoli  watenag. 
When  a  sermon  is  too  long,  the  end  makes  ns  forget 
the  middle,  and  the  vaLcLh  the  beginning.  Preachers 
of  very  moderate  powers  are  endurable,  provided  they 
a*e  brief;  while  such  as  are  excellent  become  burden- 
lome  when  the^  are  too  long.  A  preacher  cannot  have 
a  more  offensive  fault  than  lengthiness.  You  musi 
saj  little,  and  that  good,  and  inculcate  it  diligently, 
not  making  the  least  account  of  those  fastidious  minds 
who  are  displeased  when  a  preacher  repeats  a  thing, 
and  goes  ovei*  the  same  gi-ound  again.  What !  is  it  not 
necessary  in  making  a  work  of  iron  to  heat  it  over  and 
over  ap^ain ;  and  in  pa  nting  to  touch  and  retouch  re- 
peatedly? How  much  more,  then,  is  it  needful,  in 
order  to  imprint  eternal  titiths  in  hearts  confirmed  in 
evil,  and  on  hardened  intellects  V  " 

Not  only  did  St.  Francis  approve  of  short  sermons, 
but  he  had  a  predilection  for  a  limited  audience,  as 
M.  de  Belley  thus  relates : 

** '  Rejoice,'  said  our  Saint,  '  when  in  ascending  the 
pulpit  you  see  few  pople,  and  that  you  have  but  a 
tliinly-scattcred  audience/  *  But,'  said  I,  *  it  costs  no 
more  ti-ouble  to  teach  many  tiian  few.'  ^  It  is  from  a 
thirt}- veai-s*  experience  in  this  matter,*  he  replied,  *  that 
I  speak;  and  i  Lave  always  seen  greater  results  for 
God's  service  from  sermons  1  hnve  preached  before 
small  than  before  large  congregations.  At  the  time  1 
was  provost,  I  was  sent  by  tlie  bishop,  my  predecessor^ 
to  preach.  One  Sunday,  when  tlie  weather  was  very 
bad,  there  were  only  seven  persons  in  the  church,  su 
that  some  one  observed  to  me,  that  it  was  not  worth 
while  to  give  any  sermon.  I  repUed,  that  neither  did 
a  large  audience  encom'a^e,  nor  a  small  one  dishearten 
oie ;  that  provided  one  sm»-le  individual  was  edified,  it 
was  enough.  I  accordingly  mouutnd  the  pulpit,  and 
I  remember  my  sermon  was  on  prayer  to  the  saints.  I 
treated  the  subject  very  simply ;  I  said  nothing  either 
pathetic  or  vehement ;  however,  one  of  the  congre^ 
tion  began  to  weep  bitterly,  and  even  to  lob  and  ugb 


i  I     It 


•T.  FRAlfOIS  DS  tALBl. 


198 


quite  audibly.  I  thought  he  was  ill,  so  T  begpgped  him 
not  to  put  any  constraint  upon  himself;  that  I  was  about 
to  finish,  and  would  come  and  help  him  if  he  needed 
any  thing-.  He  replied  that  he  was  quite  well  in  ^KKiy, 
and  begged  me  to  go  on,  saying  that  I  was  dressinig; 
the  wound  which  required  it.  When  the  sermon,  whicb 
was  short,  was  over,  he  came  and  threw  himself  at  my 
feet,  exclaiminsf, '  M.  le Provost,  I  owe  my  hfe  to  you; 
you  have  savea  my  soul  to-day.  Blessed  be  the  hour 
when  I  came  here  and  heard  you !  it  has  been  worth  an 
eteniity  to  ..me.*  He  then  told  me,  that  havirg  Wn 
conferring  with  some  (Protestant)  ministers  concermng 
prayer  to  the  saints,  which  they  represented  as  horrible 
idofatry,  he  had  fixed  the  following  Thursday  for  hia 
abjuration  of  the  Catholic  religion ;  but  that  he  had 
been  so  well  instructed  by  the  sermon  he  had  just  heard, 
and  his  doubts  had  been  so  completely  removed,  that 
he  detested  the  promise  he  had  made,  and  vowed  obe> 
dience  anew  to  the  Roman  Church.  I  cannot  tell  yon 
what  an  impression  this  example,  occurring  amongst 
so  small  a  number  of  people,  produced  through  ua 
whole  neighbourhood,  and  how  docile  and  ready  to 
receive  the  Word  of  God  it  rendered  the  hearts  of 
others.* 

**  A  very  learned  preacher,  who  took  great  paina 
with  his  sermons,  but  who  was  not  much  followed, 
often  employed  the  best  part  of  his  discourse  in  com* 
plainmg  of  the  negligence  of  those  who  did  not  corns 
to  hear  the  Word  of  God,  and  even  went  so  far  ai 
to  threaten  to  throw  all  up  and  forsake  his  pulpit  The 
Saint,  who  had  been  present,  said  to  one  of  his  con< 
fidential  friends,  as  they  came  out  of  church,  '  Whom 
is  this  good  person  angry  with  ?  He  has  scolded  U0 
for  a  fault  we  have  not  committed,  for  we  were  pre- 
sent. Would  be  have  had  us  cut  ourselves  up  mto 
bits  to  fill  the  empty  places  ?  It  is  the  absent  he  waa 
displeased  with,  ana  tney  will  not  be  the  more  punctual 
in  consequence,  for  they  did  not  hear  him.  If  he  wished 
to  addriM  t}iem»  he  ought  to  have  fpone  about  the  atreed 


194 


n   V«A1f  Oil  DS  f  ALI 


^ii'i 


if  i 


■nm 


¥:% 


and  public  places,  to  compel  those  who  frequented  then 
to  come  to  Lis  banquet.  As  it  is,  he  inveighed  at  thv 
innocent,  and  let  the  gr^iilty  alone.' 

"  Disputes  on  reli>^ious  mutters  were  Tery  disagree- 
able to  Itim,  particularly  at  table  and  after  dinner; 
these  were  not,  he  said,  bottle  topics.  I  replied,  one 
day^  taking  up  his  expression,  that  J  a  bottle  of  thii 
kind  was  occasionally  broken,  it  was  to  g^ve  forth  the 
lamp  of  truth,  which  is  all  fire  and  flame.  *  Yes,  in- 
fieea,'  he  rejoined, '  fire  and  flames  of  ang-er  and  alter- 
cation, wiiich  yield  only  smoke  and  blackness,  and  verj 
'ittle  lij^ht.'  He  also  particularly  disapproved  of  contro- 
versial subjects  being*  introduced  into  sermons,  preaching 
bemg  ordained  rather  to  edify  than  to  ])ull  down ;  and 
'bi*  instruction  in  morals,  rather  than  for  settling  those 
iisputes  concerning  the  faith  which  arise  among  such 
is  are  external  to  the  Church.  But  it  will  be  urged, 
oerhaps,  that  it  is  for  the  purpose  of  confirming  Cathodes 
sa  their  belief  that  the  arguments  of  their  advenarief 
are  ovei>thrown  in  their  presence.  A  plausible  reason, 
but  of  which  experience  proves  the  futihty;  because^ 
not  to  speak  of  tlie  thorny  difficulties  with  which  thess 
distressing  contestations  are  beset,  the  human  mind, 
owing  to  its  natural  corruption,  has  so  great  a  pro- 
pensity to  evil,  that  it  will  fix  its  attention  on  the 
objection  rather  th<in  on  its  solution,  and  choose  the 
f^erpent  in  place  of  the  bread.  His  method,  both  in 
preaching  and  in  private  conferences  with  Protestants, 
was  to  expound  with  that  clearness  and  facility  for 
which  he  was  so  remarkable  the  simple  and  naked 
truths  of  faith ;  for  truth,  he  said,  in  its  native  tim- 
olicity,  had  charms  and  attractions  capable  of  winninff 
the  most  rebellious  souls.  This  plan  he  found  to  sncoeed 
so  admirably,  that,  provided  he  could  get  a  Protestant 
to  give  him  a  calm  and  qniet  hearing,  not  only  did  he 
make  his  weapons  fall  from  his  hands  oy  thus  disposing 
of  his  objections  before  he  had  made  them,  but  if  he 
^'A  not  gun  him  over  at  once,  he  made  so  aeep  an  im- 
mreinon  that  the  person  was  sure  to  return  voy  torn 


•T.  nuvroii  in  fiii 


105 


in- 


to leeli  a  healing^  remmly  from  .ho  hand  which  had  is* 
flicted  80  happy  a  wound." 

The  example  of  this  preat  Saint  is  the  more  apposite, 
that  it  will  be  rememliered  he  was  called  to  rule  a  flock 
surrounded  and  interniing'led  with  hei-etics.  His  advice, 
therefore,  on  this  head  may  be  received  absolutely,  ana 
does  not  require  modiHcation  from  any  material  differ- 
ence in  the  circumstances  in  which  we  ourselves  are 
placed.  Now  this  fnent  Saint  considered  that  this  me- 
thod had  four  notable  advantages :  1,  it  hides  the  point 
of  the  lancet  in  cotton ;  2,  it  avoids  the  weariness  and 
importunity  which  g^enemlly  accomjtany  the  thorny  path 
of  conti-oversy ;  3,  it  takes  its  henrers  hap|>ily  by  sur- 

Srise,  and  makes  them  receive  the  trutii,  not  only  without 
ifficulty,  but  with  pleasura ;  4,  simple  as  it  is,  it  pos- 
sesses in  its  simplicity  a  wonderful  energy,  changing 
offensive  into  defensive  wea]>ons,  and  di-awin)^  proofs  for 
the  defence  of  truth  fram  the  very  objections  of  those 
who  are  in  error. 

M.  de  Belley  goes  on  to  exemplify  the  manner  in 
which  the  Saint  practised  this  method : 

''  The  answers  which  Catholics  are  in  the  habit  of 
{fiTing  to  the  objections  which  Protestants  make  from 
passages  of  Scripture,  being  conformable  to  the  truths 
which  are  taught  by  the  Church,  we  have  only  to  bring 
foiwajtl  the  solution  first,  which  being  explained  and 
reasoned  out,  without  making  it  figure  as  an  answer  to 
an  objection,  the  passage  upon  which  the  difficulty  is 
grounded  comes  by  this  means  to  furnish  a  proof  of  the 
truth  laid  down.  Thus  it  was  that  the  Saint  himself 
explained  it  to  me.  Here  is  an  example  which  wiU 
make  the  matter  clear : 

"  Protestants  commonly  quote  this  passage  of  Scrip- 
Pan  against  the  Real  Presence :  *  It  is  the  spirit  which 
^veth  life:  the  Jleeh profiteth  nothing^  to  which  we 
make  two  replies, — tHe  one  from  St  Chrysostom,  *h% 
other  from  St  Angustioe :  first,  that  the  flesh  without 
the  spirit^thU  is,  without  the  Divinity — ^would  profit 
Mthiog ;  aeoondlj,  tW  the  camtl  iiiil  groii  waj  a 


UNIVERSITY  OF  WINDSOR  LIBRARY 


Ih  I 


IM 


•T.  tftANOIf  Dl  tALll. 


1; .  II 


'l      ''i 


which  cfte  Gaphtrnaites  understood  Him  profited  bo* 
thing.  In  pursuance  of  the  object  we  have  in  view,  wt 
have  only  to  point  out  the  weakness  of  the  flesh  by  it- 
self, without  being  united  to  the  Divinity  and  anointed 
by  it,  and  to  show  that  it  is  the  Divinity  which  imparts 
to  the  humanity  the  power  it  possesses  of  communi-. 
eating  to  the  faithful  who  are  its  members  that  grace 
which  itself  has  received  as  the  head ;  and  thus  it  is  this 
8i)u*it  of  the  Divinity  and  tliis  Sacred  Flesh  which  vivi- 
fies souls  who  become  pnrtakera  thereof  in  communion. 
According  to  the  second  interpretation,  we  have  only  to 
represent  how  gross  and  unworthy  of  the  majesty  o' 
clus  mystery  was  the  notion  of  the  Caphamaites,  ana 
how  fsff  removed  from  it  is  the  Cathohc  faith  on  this 
point,  and  hence  conclude  how  true  are  these  words  of 
che  Saviour,  that  the  flesh,  taken  m  these  two  senses, 
would  profit  nothing ;  by  this  means  availing  ourselves, 
in  conhrmatiou  of  tlie  orthodox  doctrine,  otthat  which 
is  employed  to  oppose  it.  He  told  me  that  he  had  for 
a  long  time  employed  this  method,  and  that  it  ttirew 
BO  complete  a  disguise  over  controversy,  that,  althouG[h 
one  might  preach  nothing  else,  hearers  would  scarcely 
be  aware  or  the  fact  unless  it  were  pointed  out  to  them. 
Be  preached  an  Advent  and  Lent  at  Grenoble,  where 
/here  are  numbers  of  Protestants,  who  were  more  dili- 
gent in  their  atter  dance  on  his  preaching  than  on  that 
of  their  own  ministers,  because,  tiiey  said,  he  was  free 
ii-om  the  spirit  of  contention ;  and  yet  he  always  em- 
ployed the  first  part  of  his  discourse  in  setting  forth 
the  traths  of  Catholic  doctrine,  but  in  the  manner  I  have 
described,  the  latter  part  being  devoted  to  moral  and  de- 
votional application :  the  Protestants  meanwhile,  who 
never  perceived  the  art  of  his  method,  wondering  much 
at  seeing  him  establish  the  faith  of  the  Roman  Church 
by  the  very  same  Scripture  texts  by  which  they  sup- 
ported their  priu'  dpal  objections. 

''Our  Saint  one  day,  while  at  Paiis,  preached  a 
sermon  on  the  last  judgment,  to  which  God  gave  M 
Buch  power  and  efficacy,  that  certain  Protestant!  wba 


IT.  FmiNOIt  Dl  BALM.  1^ 

had  oome  to  hear  him  from  euriositj  were  so  deeplj 
moTed,  that  they  conceived  a  desire  to  confer  with  him 
on  some  points  of  faith ;  the  result  being  their  complete 
tatisfaotion,  and  the  conversion  of  an  entire  family  of 
much  note,  who  were  received  into  the  bosom  ot  th» 
Catholic  Church. 

*'  Here  is  the  Saint's  own  account  of  the  fiust : '  Being 
at  Paris,  and  preaching  in  the  queen's  chapel  upon  the 
subject  of  the  day  of  judgment  (it  was  not  a  controver- 
sial sermon),  it  happened  that  Madame  de  Perdreauville 
was  present,  having  come  from  curiosity.  She  was 
caught  in  the  snare,  and  in  consequence  of  that  sermon 
came  to  the  resolution  of  seeking  instruction;  three  weeks 
afterwards  she  brought  her  whole  family  to  me  to  con- 
fession, and  stood  godmother  to  them  all  at  confirmation. 
See  how  this  sermon,  which  was  not  aimed  at  heresy, 
was  endued  with  such  power  against  it;  for  God  at 
that  time  voiichsafed  me  that  grace  to  my  words  ii 
bvour  of  these  souls. 

**  *  I  have  always  said  ever  since  that  who  everpreaohes 
with  love,  preaches  sufficiently  against  heresy,  although 
he  may  not  utter  a  single  word  of  controversy  against 
't.  For  these  thirty-three  years  that  Ood  has  called  me 
to  the  sacred  office  of  breaking  the  bread  of  His  Word 
to  the  people,  I  have  certainly  remarked  that  practical 
sermons,  where  the  subject  is  treated  ?nth  devotion  and 
with  zeal,  are  so  many  burning  coals  thrown  in  the  faces 
of  the  Protestants  who  hear  them ;  that  they  are  always 
pleased  and  edified  by  them,  and  are  thereoy  rendered 
more  docile  and  reasonable  when  we  come  to  confer 
with  them  on  disputed  points.  This  is  not  my  opinion 
alone,  but  that  of  the  most  celebrated  preachers  whom 
I  have  known ;  and  every  one  agrees  that  the  pulpit 
ought  not  to  be  made  the  oattle-ground  of  controversy, 
and  that  we  'demolish  more  than  we  build  up,  if  we 
attempt  any  thmg  beyond  a  passinp^  allusion  to  it.'  ** 

If  a  Samt's  opinion  on  this  pomt  is  worthy  of  no- 
tice, how  much  more  of  one  who  gathered  into  tlw 
Ohurofa's  bosom  so  many  of  her  lost  sneep ! 


■'"I'.M 


"•>*■.■ 


108  ST.  FBAHOIt  DB  lALM. 

<'  Our  SainV'  sayi  M.  de  Bellej,  "  hud  received 
from  leaven  a  special  grace  for  oon?ertingp  linnera  witlh* 
in  the  CImrah,  and  for  bringing  back  those  without  to 
the  bosom  of  that  Mother,  separated  from  whom  we 
cannot  have  Ood  for  our  Father.  As  resmcts  theee, 
not  to  speak  of  the  restoration  of  the  Chaulais  to  tlM 
true  Ciiurch,  in  which  he  codperated  in  the  conversion 
of  from  forty  to  fifty  tiiousand  souls,  he  was  besides  per- 
sonally instrumental  in  reclaiming  some  fifteen  or  sii- 
teen  tuousand  pei'sons  from  Protestantism.  Thif  special 
gift  lor  converting  was  the  occasion  of  an  obeervatioD 
which  the  great  uai-dinal  du  Perron,  of  Uteraiy  cele- 
brity, made  one  day, — that  if  it  was  a  question  merely 
of  eonfbiifuiing  heretics,  he  thought  he  possessed  th« 
secret;  but  to  convert  them,  they  must  be  sent  to  Um 
Bishop  of  Geneva,  who  had  a  commission  from  heaven 
for  that  work.  The  Cardinal  de  Derulle  was  of  th« 
same  opinion,  and  openly  declared  that  the  hand  of 
God  was  with  the  blessed  Francis." 

We  are  not  to  sup|)ose,  however,  that  he  ihrank 
from  controversy  where  the  honDvu*  or  religion  and  tha 
good  of  souls  required  that  t)ie  truth  should  be  pub- 
licly vindicated.  Here  is  an  instance  recorded  by  H.  da 
Belley,  which  exemplifies  his  holy  boldness,  and  at  tha 
Mme  time  manifests  its  source, — a  perfect  oonfidenoa 
in  God,  whose  glory  he  sought  alonCi  and  a  spirit  ol 
bumble  self-renunciation ; 

**  The  Saint,  when  preaching  Lent  and  Advent  tt 
Grtiioble,  di-ew  such  crowded  congregations,  not  oidy 
of  Catholics,  but  of  Prjtestants  belonging  to  the  Gene- 
van sect,  that  the  seimnns  of  their  own  ministers  wt^vt* 
left  unattended.  One  of  these  men,  a  turbulent  f^ir^ 
seeing  his  pulpit  deserted,  after  indulging  in  mam  lo- 
vecftves  and  injurious  declamations  against  the  «unt» 
defied  hiui  to  a  public  conference.  The  challenge  wai 
accej>ted.  A  perran  of  merit,  who  did  not  think  it  ad* 
▼itaole  th^".  * '.e  Saint  su )  ilii  aipoee  himself  to  this  coii>. 
tent,  represesvid  .  >  him  ^he  insolent  temper  of  thte 
■Buatav^koLfttia  helliaw  mouth,  tad  the  inoit  vitvp^ 


•T.  F«A1fCTt  DB  •▲!■•. 


IM 


rative  and  abusiTe  of  tonfpiM.  '  Good/  said  the  Sunt ; 
'  this  18  just  what  we  wan  '  And  as  his  friend  weut  on 
to  represent  to  him  that  he  would  j^ceive  the  most  on- 
worthy  treatment  from  this  man,  who  would  show  hioi 
no  more  consideration  than  if  he  wus  the  lowest  of  the 
people,  '  Better  still/  replied  the  holy  Bishop;  Hhis  it 
what  I  seek.  What  gjory  shall  accrue  to  Ood  from 
my  confusion !'  '  BuV  rejoined  the  other, '  wt>uld  you 
expose  the  rank  you  bold  to  ignominy  ?'  *  Our  Lord/ 
answered  the  Saint,  *  suffered  rar  greater  insults.  Wat 
He  not  satiated  with  opprobrium  V  *  0/  replied  hii 
friend, '  you  are  aiming  too  hiff h.'  '  What  shall  I  say  V 
continued  the  Saint  '  I  hope  uiat  God  will  gi^e  me  the 
grace  to  endure  more  insults  than  this  man  can  offer  me ; 
and  if  we  are  deeply  humbled,  God  will  be  ^^loriously 
exalted.  You  will  see  heaps  of  conversions  after  that,— > 
« thousand  fallm^  on  the  left  hand  and  ten  thousand 
«in  the  right.  It  is  God's  way  to  draw  His  own  honour 
from  our  humiliation.  Did  not  the  Apostles  cone  fortk 
joyfully  from  those  assemblies  where  they  had  Midured 
affronts  for  the  name  of  Jesus?  Let  us  take  courage^ 
and  God  will  help  us.  Such  as  hope  in  H^m  want  for 
nothing,  and  are  never  confounded.' 

**  The  enemy,  however,  who  feared  that  this  night 
prove  a  losing  game,  sugp^ested  so  many  prudential 
considerations  to  the  minister's  adherents^  who  mis- 
trusted his  powers,  that  they  got  the  king'f  lieutenant, 
who  at  that  time  still  belonged  to  their  tSst,  to  prevent 
the  oonferenoe  from  taking  place.'* 


Mt^Vib 


TBB  IAIIIT'b  LOVB  OV  HUMILRT  AlID  SIMPUCRT. 

**  St  Gregory  has  well  said,  that  when  we  praise  a 
wise  nan  m  his  presence,  we  afflict  his  ears  and  pain  bis 
heart.  Such  was  our  Saint  He  who  so  lovingly  em- 
braced those  who  spoke  abusive  words  against  nim  was 
mcnre  disposed  himself  to  give  abiuive  words  to  those 
irho  offiMwi  bin  the ilighfieit praiaa.    On^dayipmo^ 


it;:- 


lit 


'  h  . 


•i. 


f^  HI 


[>  f  .IVi»  'If  ;J 


<x> 


8T.  FRAN0I8  DB  SALIS. 


iziff  before  him  at  Anneoy,  and  calling  to  mind  a  sayii  a 
ofthe  Bishop  of  Saluces,  Tu  sal  es,  eqo  veto  neaue  «M 
neque  luxy*  I  was  betrayed  into  maidnff  a  little  aUu- 
sion  to  his  name,  observing  that  he  was  toe  salt  («u.2e«) 
which  seasoned  the  whole  mass  of  the  people.  He  was 
80  extremely  disedified  by  this  praise,  tuat  when  we 
had  returned  home  he  reproved  me  in  a  tone  and  with 
a  manner  that  would  have  been  severe,  had  he  been 
capable  of  severity.  '  You  were  e^oing  on  so  steadily/ 
he  said,  *  and  running  so  \<rell ;  what  possessed  you  to 
be  guilty  of  that  sally  ?  Do  vou  know  you  spoilt  it  all, 
and  that  one  word  was  sufficient  to  make  you  lose  the 
credit  of  your  whole  sermon?  Is  it  not  to  mix  with 
alloy  the  pure  gold  of  the  word  of  God  to  introduce 
the  word  of  men  ?  What  is  the  praise  of  the  living  but 
the  word  of  men  ?  Is  it  not  written,  Praise  not  an^ 
man  before  death  ?f  I  am  a  fine  salt  indeed, — an 
insipid  and  savourless  salt,  fit  only  to  be  oast  into  the 
streets  and  trodden  under  foot.  I  grieve  for  so  much 
ffood  seed  choked  with  a  handfiil  ofcockle.  Certainly 
if  you  said  that  to  put  me  to  shame,  you  have  found  out 
the  true  way.' 

"  It  was  impossible  that  he  could  be  ignorant  of  tht 
nigh  esteem  woich  not  only  his  flock  but  the  whole 
world  entertained  of  his  piety.  It  was  to  him  the  occa* 
sion  of  often  humbling  himself  before  God^  and  of  fre- 
quently blushing  before  men,  when  he  either  saw  or 
heard  that  he  was  accounted  a  holy  man,  and  a  faith- 
ful servant  of  God.  'Do  you  see,'  he  said;  'these 
good  people,  with  all  their  praises  and  high  esteem,  will 
be  the  cfluse  of  my  gathering  very  bitter  miit  from  their 
friendship.  They  will  make  me'languish  in  purgatory 
for  lack  of  prayers  offered  to  God  for  my  poor  soul  after 
mv  death,  fancying  that  it  has  gone  straight  to  heaven 
TtuB  is  all  the  good  I  shall  get  of  this  reputation.' 

"  It  was  not  his  habit  to  use  expressions  of  hunuli^ 
in  speaking  of  himself;  he  avoided  such  lang<*Age,  u 

*  Tbou  art  salt;  I,  indeed,  «m  neither  ult  nor  V^ 

taooiM.zLia 


•T.  FRARCIf  DS  SALBfl. 


901 


«ie  of  the  gulh  in  which  that  virtue  is  apt  to  suffef 
•hipwreck.  He  so  strictly  adhered  to  this  practice,  that 
notning  hut  stringent  necessity  ever  led  him  to  say  good 
or  evil  of  himself;  even  in  the  most  indifferent  matters. 
He  sometimes  said  that  it  was  as  difficult  a  feat  to  speak 
of  one's  self  as  to  walk  along  a  tight-rope;  and  that  ft 
strong  balance  as  well  as  wonderful  circumspection  wai 
requisite  to  avoid  a  fall.  He  did  not  like  to  near  people 
talking  verv  humbly  of  themselves,  unless  their  words 
proceeded  from  a  thoroughly  sincere  inward  feeling.  He 
said  that  such  words  were  the  (|uintessence;  the  cream, 
the  elixir,  of  the  most  subtle  pride.  The  truly  humble 
man  did  not  desire  to  appear  humble,  but  to  be  humbla 
Humility  is  so  fragile  that  she  fears  her  own  shadow, 
and  cannot  hear  her  own  name  mentioned  without  run* 
ning  the  risk  of  perishing.  He  who  blames  himself  il 
indirectly  aiming  at  praise,  and  is  like  the  rower  who 
turns  his  back  on  the  quarter  which  all  his  strength  if 
emploved  to  reach.  He  would  be  very  sorry  if  we  were 
to  l)eireve  all  the  evil  he  says  of  himself;  and  it  is  his 
pride  which  makes  him  desire  to  be  reckoned  humble. 
He  would  often  take  those  who  used  humble  expres- 
sions  in  his  hearing  at  their  word,  and  even  add  to  toem, 
in  order  to  inflict  a  salutary  mortification  upon  the 
speaker,  and  give  bim  a  hint  not  to  expose  himself  to 
toe  like  again;  being  well  persuaded  that  the  great 
majority  of  those  who  say  these  things  would  be  very 
sonr  to  be  believed  such  as  they  describe  themselves. 

"  He  distinguished  two  kinds  of  humility,— external 
and  internal.  If  the  former  is  not  produced,  or  at  least 
accompanied,  by  the  latter,  it  is  very  dangerous,  fo/  it 
is  nothing  more  than  a  bark,  an  outside  coating,  a  de- 
ceitful and  hypocritical  appearance;  whereas,  if  it  springs 
irom  inward  humility,  it  is  very  good,  and  serves  to  edify 
our  neighbour.  He  also  suboivided  inward  humility 
into  that  of  the  understanding,  and  that  of  the  will.  The 
first  is  common  enough ;  for  who  is  there  who  knows 
not  that  he  is  nothing?  Hence  so  much  fine  talk  of 
iho  nothingneM  of  seS  ftnd  of  oreatimi.    Tbo  laooiid 


]  \i 


ti  1 1 


^'r:M 


IT.  FRAHOIS  91  ftALIt. 

IS  very  rare,  becaui^e  few  penions  love  humiliation.  Thu 
latter  sort  lias  ditrerent  degrees ;  the  fiist  is  to  love  it, 
the  second  to  desira  it,  the  third  to  practise  it,  whether 
by  seeking  occasions  for  humbling  ourselves,  or  by  re- 
ceiving wulingly  those  which  happen  to  us.     Our  Saint 
set  a  much  higher  value  on  the  last,  because  there  if 
much  more  alj^ection  in  suffering,  loving,  embracing, 
ind  receiving  with  joy,  the  humiliations  which  come  to 
as  unsought,  than  those  which  are  of  our  own  choosing, 
for  in  things  of  our  own  choice  we  are  much  more  ex- 
posed to  the  assaults  of  self-love,  unless  our  intention  it 
very  single  and  pure;  and  also,  because  where  there 
IS  less  of  our  own,  there  is  more  of  the  will  of  God. 
'  The  crosses  we  carve  for  ourselves,'  he  said,  '  are  al* 
ways  moi'e  delicate  than  the  othera ;'  and  he  set  more 
value  on  an  ounce  of  suffeiing  than  on  several  pounds 
of  action,  good  as  it  might  be,  which  proceeded  from 
our  own  will.    He  desired  that  humihty,  whether  of 
the  understanding  or  of  the  will,  should  be  animated  by 
charity ;  for  otheiTvise,  he  said,  we  were  but  practising 
pagan  virtue.  He  also  desired  that  it  should  be  accom- 
panied by  obedience,  quoting  that  saying  of  St.  Paul, 
that  our  Lord  had  humbled  Himself  ^  becoming  obedi' 
ent.*    *  See,*  he  observed,  *  the  tme  measure  of  humi- 
lity, obedience.    If  you  obey  promptly,  frankly,  with- 
out murmuring,  joyfully,  without  hesitation,  and  with 
out  reply,  you  are  truly  humble ;  and  without  humility 
it  is  difficult  to  be  truly  obedient ;  for  obedience  im- 
plies submission,  and  the  truly  humble  looks  upon  him- 
self as  inferior  and  subject  to  every  creature  for  the 
love  of  Jesus  Christ.'    He  recommended  us  to  steep 
til  our  actions  in  the  spirit  of  humility,  and  to  hide  our 
ffood  works  as  much  as  nossible  from  the  eyes  of  men, 
desiring  that  they  shoula  be  seen  by  God  alotoe.     Ne- 
vertheless, he  would  not  have  us  put  such  a  constraint 
vpon  ourselves  as  to  do  no  good  action  m  the  sight  of 
men.     He  loved  a  noble,  generous,  and  courageoui 
LflUBOJlit/i  not  fuch  as  is  shrinking  and  cowardly.    He 

•Philip.  U»ft 


'■► --•*, 


•T.  VBAHOIf  Dl  BJLUn, 

rould  not  haye  us  say  any  thing  for  so  empty  an  objeet 
as  praise ;  but  neitlier  would  he  nave  us  abstam  from  do  • 
ing  good  for  fear  of  obtaining  esteem  and  admiration." 

The  following  anecdote  will  illustrate  his  spirit  of 
humility,  and  his  aversion  to  any  thing  that  could  bear 
file  semblance  of  ostentation  in  piety ;  and  at  the  same 
xme  will  serve  to  show  in  how  much  higher  esteem  he 
field  the  virtue  of  charitable  condescension  than  the 
practice  of  corjioral  mortification : 

**  A  prelate/'  relates  M.  do  Belley,  ''coming to Tisit 
Diir  Saint,  he  received  him,  as  was  his  wont,  very  gra- 
ciously, and  detained  him  as  his  guest  a  few  days.  One 
Fiiday  evenmg  he  sought  him  in  his  apartment,  to  ask 
hnu  to  come  down  to  supper,  which  was  ready.  '  Sup- 
per I'  exclaimed  the  prelate ;  *  this  is  no  time  tor  supper: 
surely  the  least  one  can  do  is  to  fast  once  a  week.' 
The  oaint  did  not  press  the  matter,  but,  retiring,  gate 
orders  for  his  guest's  collation  to  oe  served  him  in  hif 
own  room,  while  he  himself  went  down  to  the  com- 
mon itMm  to  sup  with  the  prelate's  chaplains  and  the 
other  persons  of  his  household.  The  chaplains  told  him 
that  tlie  prelate  was  so  exact  and  strict  m  his  religious 
exercises,  whether  of  prayer,  fasting,  or  such-Hke,  that^ 
no  matter  what  company  he  had  with  him,  he  would 
omit  nothing ;  not  but  that  he  would  sit  at  table  witk 
them  on  the  days  when  he  was  in  the  habit  of  fast- 
ing, but  he  would  eat  notliing  beyond  fasting-fare. 
One  day,  when  we  were  conversing  together  about  li- 
berty of  spirit,  he  related  this  incident  to  me,  and  told 
me  that  condescension  was  the  daughter  of  charity, 
even  as  fasting  is  the  sister  of  obedience;  that  if  obedi- 
ence was  better  than  sacrifice,  we  ought  to  make  no 
scruple  of  preferring  condescension  and  hospitahty  to 
Ousting.  *  Do  you  see,'  he  added,  *  we  must  not  be  so 
strongly  attached  even  to  the  most  pious  exercises  ai 
to  be  unwilhng  upon  occasions  to  lay  them  aside;  otheN 
wise,  under  the  pretext  of  firmness  of  mind  and  fidelity, 
a  refined  s|)6cies  of  self-love  will  introduce  itself,  which 
vili  lead  ui  to  substitute  the  means  for  the  end;  for  io- 


Iff  pr^ja^^BRh^^^ 


i   I 


r 


ii'i 


4 


i^;- 


i  t 


'.        V 


!'l  Ml 


?04 


•T.  FRANOIf  DB  lALBt. 


etead  of  making  Qod  our  object,  we  fix  our  afPectioM  ob  , 
the  means  which  lead  to  God.  '  And  as  far  as  concems 
the  fact  of  which  we  are  speaking,  a  Friday's  fast  thu* 
interru])ted  would  have  served  to  conceal  something 
hotter  J  for  there  is  no  less  merit  in  hiding  such  virtue! 
than  in  the  virtues  themselves.  God  is  a  hidden  God, 
who  loves  to  be  served,  sought,  and  adored  in  secret, 
as  we  learn  irom  the  Gospel.  You  know  what  hap- 
pened to  that  imprudent  kmg  of  Israel  for  having  din- 
played  his  treasures  to  the  ambassadors  of  a  barbarian 
monarch,  who  came  with  a  powerful  army  and  carried 
them  all  away.  Crede  mihif  oene  out  latuity  bene  vixit,* 
Any  one  who  had  seen  him  eat  nis  supper  on  Friday 
would  never  have  guessed  that  it  was  nis  custom  to 
observe  that  day  as  a  fast;  while  he  himself  could  very 
well  have  put  it  off  to  the  next  day,  or  the  following 
week,  or  even  omitted  the  fast  altogether,  to  practise  in 
its  place  the  virtue  of  condescension.  I  maxe  an  ex- 
ception in  the  case  of  the  existence  of  a  vow,  for  then 
we  must  be  faithful  unto  death,  and  not  trouble  our 
^eads  what  men  will  say,  provided  God  be  served.' " 

To  the  love  of  humility  St.  Francis  joined  an  equal 
esteem  of  the  virtue  of  simplicity.  **  *  1  know  not,  be 
said,  *  what  this  poor  virtue  of  prudence  has  done  to 
displease  me,  but  I  have  to  make  an  effort  to  love  it, 
and  if  I  do  love  it,  it  is  of  pure  necessity,  seeing  that  it 
is  the  salt  and  torch  of  lite.  But  the  beauty  of  sim- 
plicity charms  me,  and  I  would  at  any  time  give  a  hun- 
dred serpents  for  one  dove.'  He  laboured  not  onljr  to 
banish  fixim  religious  houses  the  pest  of  singularity, 
but  also  to  lead  those  persons  who  make  a  profession 
of  devotion  in  the  world  to  avoid  it ;  saying  that  this 
defect  rendered  their  piety  not  only  offensive  but  ridi- 
culous. He  wished  people  to  conform  externally,  ai 
much  as  possible,  to  tiie  mode  of  life  of  those  who  fol- 
lowed the  same  profession,  without  affecting  to  make 
themselves  remarkable  by  any  sin^larity :  proposing 
Ui«  axample  of  our  Srviour,  who  m  the  days  of  H^ 
*  B«1mv«  ma  he  who  hidM  w«ll  Utm  wtlL 


•T.  FKAirOIt  DM  tALlt.  90ft 

tn  )rtAl  life  was  pleased  to  make  Himself  in  all  tLing» 
like  to  His  bretliren,  sin  only  excepted.  The  Saint  wap 
most  careful  to  practise  this  lesson  in  bis  own  person ; 
and  during  fourteen  years  that  I  was  under  his  guid- 
ance, and  studiously  observed  his  behaviour,  and  even 
his  most  triflirg  gestures  as  well  as  his  words,  I  never 
perceived  any  thing  in  him  the  least  approaching  to 
singularity.  He  has  often  told  me  that  our  outward 
demeanour  ought  to  resemble  water,  which,  the  better 
it  is,  the  clearer,  the  purer  from  admixture,  and  the 
more  devoid  of  taste  it  is.  Nevertheless,  although  there 
was  nothing  of  singularity  in  him,  he  appeared  to  me  so 
singular  in  this  very  thin^  of  having  no  sintnilarity  in 
him,  that  every  thing  in  him  was  in  my  eyes  singular. 
I  have  always  remembered  what  an  eminent  and  pious 
individual  said  to  me  one  day  at  Paris,  that  nothing 
i*eminded  him  so  strongly  of  the  conversation  of  our 
Lord  among  men  as  the  presence  of  the  anpf^ic  coun- 
tenance of  this  blessed  prelate,  of  whom  it  might  be 
said  that  he  was  not  only  clothed  but  altogether  filled 
with  Jesus  Christ." 

The  following  little  incident  may  be  taken  as  an  ex 
ample  of  his  great  love  of  this  virtue.  **  Our  Saint,  after 
prpaching  Advent  and  Lenc  at  Grenoble,  conceived  a 
desire  to  visit  the  Grande  Chartreuse,  distant  only  three 
leagues.  Dom  Bnmo  d*  Affringues,  a  native  of  St.  Omer 
in  Flanders,  a  person  of  profound  learning  and  hu- 
mility, and  of  still  more  profound  simplicity,  was  at  that 
time  prior  and  general  of  the  whole  order.  He  received 
our  Saint  with  a  welcome  becoming  his  piety,  candour, 
and  sincerity,  of  which  you  are  goin^  to  near  an  in- 
stance which  our  Saint  praised  up  to  nie  skies.  After 
having  conducted  him  to  one  of  the  rooms  allo^^ted  to 
guests,  and  suitable  to  his  rank,  and  after  conversing 
with  hixn  on  heavenly  matters,  he  took  his  leave  to  go 
and  prepare  himself  for  matins.  The  Saint  approved 
his  punctuality  highly ;  the  good  prior  moreover  adding 
in  excuse  that  it  was  the  feast  of  a  Saint  much  honoured 
in  hit  order.    Leave  having  been  taken  with  all  dma 


^i-v^f. 


'   I 


'  i 


r  i 


«T.  FlUffOIS  DB  f  ALU. 

eompMnirats  of  honour  and  respect,  rs  thff  pr.or  wu  rt 
tiring  to  his  cell,  he  was  met  hv  one  cf  the  procurator! 
of  the  houso,  who  ii«ik(>d  him  wliitlier  he  was  gomp:,  and 
where  he  htid  left  Munseigncur  of  Geneva.  '  I  left  him 
in  his  i-oom/  replied  the  prior,  'and  have  taken  leavfl 
of  him,  that  I  may  go  and  prepare  myself  in  my  cell 
for  matins,  on  Hccount  of  to-morrow's  least.*  *  Ueally, 
reverend  father,'  rejoined  the  reiifrious,  *  you  are  very 
Ignorant  of  worldly  proprieties.  What !  it  is  question 
merely  of  a  feast  of  our  oi-der,  and  have  we  then  every 
day  the  opjwrtunity  of  receiving  prelates  of  such  ex- 
alted merit  in  our  desert .'  Do  you  not  know  that  Ood 
takes  pleasure  in  the  sacrifices  ol"  hospitality?  You  will 
always  have  plenty  of  time  to  sing  the  praises  of  God 
and  matins  in  abimdance;  but  who  can  entertain  so 
great  a  prelate  as  well  as  yourself?  What  a  disgrace 
to  the  house  that  you  should  leave  him  by  himself  in 
this  way!*  *My  child,*  replied  the  revei-end  father, 
*  I  believe  you  are  right,  and  that  I  have  done  wrong. 
And  he  immediately  went  back  to  the  Bishop  d 
Geneva,  and  said  to  him  with  the  most  perfect  in- 
genuousness, *  Monseigneur,  as  I  was  going  away,  I 
met  one  of  our  officer,  who  pointed  out  to  nie  that  I 
had  committed  a  fault  in  leaving  you  alone ;  that  I 
ihould  have  other  oppoitunities  of  attending  matins,  but 
that  it  is  not  every  day  that  we  have  Monseigneur  of 
Oeneva.  I  thought  he  was  right,  and  so  I  came  back 
at  once  to  entreat  your  pardon,  and  to  beg  you  to  ex- 
cuse my  fault,  for  I  am  telling  you  the  truth  when  I 
say  that  I  committed  it  through  inadvertence.'  The 
Saint  was  quite  charmed  with  tnis  singular  instance  ojf 
frankness,  candour,  ingenuousness,  and  simplicity;  and 
assured  me  he  was  more  delighted  with  it  than  if  he 
had  witnessed  a  miracle.*' 

The  extreme  simplicity  which  in  St  Francis  himielf 
was  united  to  the  profoundest  humility  is  further  ex- 
hibited by  M.  de  Belley.  **  I  have  known,**  he  sa^ 
"  great  servants  of  Ood  whom  nothing  could  hare  m- 
iueed  to  allow  any  one  to  take  their  portrait, ' 


V 

lilfijslj'iilli 

Mmi"  ' 


fT.  nUNOn  DB  lALIt. 


207 


rat  ft 
iratort 
jr,and 
)fx  him 
I  leave 
ny  cell 
Heallj, 
po  very 
uestion 
I  every 
ich  ex- 
Ht  God 
'ou  will 
of  God 
tain  80 
H8{rrace 
mself  in 
father, 
wrong, 
iihop  ct 
feet  in- 
iway,  I 
3  that  I 
;  that  I 
;inSy  but 
pfieur  of 
neback 
1  to  ex- 
when  I 
u'    Th« 
tanoeof 
;▼;  and 

himietf 
bher  ex* 
le  ityi, 
lave  m- 


ini  raeb  an  act  would  imply  tome  sort  of  vanity  or 
dangerous  coinulaisance.  Our  Saint,  who  madH  hiniseil 
all  tuings  to  all  men,  made  no  diiiiculty  about  the  inat- 
tw.  His  reason  was  tliis,  that  as  the  law  of  charity 
obliges  us  to  communicate  to  our  neiglilraur  the  picture 
of  our  mind,  imparting  to  him  frankly  and  without 
grudging  all  we  have  leai'ut  with  resjiect  to  the  science 
of  salvation,  we  ought  not  to  make  any  greatoi  ob- 
jection to  grive  our  friends  the  satisfaction  they  desire 
of  having  before  their  eyes,  through  the  meaium  of 
painting)  the  representation  of  our  outward  man.  If 
we  see,  not  only  without  annoyance,  but  even  with 
pleasure,  our  books,  whici  ire  the  portraits  of  our  minds, 
m  the  hands  of  our  nei;.-..  )ours,  why  gintdge  them  the 
features  of  our  face,  if  the  iwssession  of  tiiem  will  con- 
tribute any  thing  to  their  pleasure  ?  These  are  his  own 
words,  writing  on  the  subject  to  a  fiiend :  *  Here,  at  any 
rate,  is  the  portrait  of  this  earthly  man,  so  Uttle  am  I 
able  to  refuse  you  any  thing  you  desire.  I  am  told 
that  it  is  the  test  likeness  that  was  ever  taken  of  me, 
bat  I  think  that  matters  very  little :  In  imagine  per* 
trantit  homOf  scd  etfmstra  conturbatur.*  I  had  tf 
borrow  it  in  order  to  give  it  you,  for  I  have  none  of  my 
own.  Would  that  the  likeness  of  my  Creator  did  but 
•hine  forth  in  my  mind ! — with  what  pleasure  would  you 
behold  it !  0  JesUf  tuo  lumincy  tuo  redemptoa  sanguine^ 
Sana,  refovef  perficCf  tihi  conf'ormes  effice.   Amen,*i 

'*  Whereupon  take  notice  of  his  ingenuity  in  draw- 
ing profit  from,  and  referring  to  God's  glory,  every 
thmg  that  occurred ;  taking  occasion  of  this  portrait 
to  teach  so  beautiffil  a  lesson  of  humility  and  modesty, 
both  to  the  person  to  wuom  he  was  sending  it  and  to 
himself,  after  having  first  given  the  former  a  proof  of 
hii  ready  condescension.    A  man  of  a  constrained  and 


•   Ml 


>MuijpassethMaBims|{e;  yea,  and  If  disquieted  in  Tain." 
Psalm  zxxTuL  7. 

f  O  Jesus,  by  ThTliffht,  heal,  renen  make  perfect  those  who 
have  been  redecned  oy  Thj  blood,  and  make  ttiem  eonfomable 
loTliee.    Amen. 

9 


■'';'.'■• 


•T.  FRAMtflS  J>B  lALlH. 

timid  spirit  would  have  stiffened  himseh,  a2id  Wiiftk,4 
have  rather  chosen  some  great  mortificatioii  than  haT6 
allowed  his  likeness  to  be  taken.  And  why  ?  To  pre- 
serve humility,  or  for  feur  of  offending  Of>;ainst  it ;  and 
here  is  a  Saint  who  finds  an  opportunity  in  the  very 
same  thing  for  the  exercise  of  humility,  and  that  with 
so  good  a  crace  that  it  is  hard  to  say  which  is  the  most 

Eraiseworthy  in  this  action,  the  generosity  displayed  in 
is  humility,  or  the  humility  evinced  in  his  generosity." 

The  following  little  anecdote  is  also  to  the  pomt. 
''  In  the  year  1619  he  accompanied  his  Eminence  the 
Cardinal  of  Savoy  to  Paris,  who  went  thither  to  be  pre- 
sent at  the  maniage  of  the  Prince  of  Piedmont,  his 
brother,  with  Madame  the  King's  sister,  Christine  of 
France.  A  man  of  the  new  religion  asked  to  speak 
with  him  one  day,  and  was  shown  into  his  room.  Thif 
individual  walking  in,  asked  him  at  once,  without  the 
preface  of  salutation  or  compliment,  *  Are  you  the  per 
ton  they  call  the  Bishop  of  Geneva  T 

**  *  Sir,'  reptied  our  prelate, '  I  am  so  styled.' 

''  *  I  want  you  to  tell  me,  since  you  are  reckoned 
ererj  where  to  be  an  apostolic  man,  if  the  Apostlsi 
drove  about  in  carriages.* 

**  Our  Saint  wati  a  little  taken  by  surprise  at  thii 
attack ;  but  collecting  himself,  he  remembered  what  if 
related  of  St.  Philip  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  who 
mounted  the  chariot  or  carriage  of  the  eunuch  of  Can- 
dace,  queen  of  Ethiopia,  which  suggested  to  him  the 
reply,  that  they  made  use  of  carriages  when  it  suited 
their  convenience,  and  as  opportunity  presented  itself. 

"  The  other  shook  his  nead,  and  said,  '  I  should 
like  you  to  give  me  Scripture  proof  of  tiiat ;'  upon 
which  he  referred  to  the  example  just  mentioned.  '  But 
that  carria^  3,'  replied  the  other, '  did  not  belong  to  him, 
but  to  the  eunucii  who  invited  him  into  it.' 

"  *  I  did  nof  say  that  the  carria^  belonged  to  himj 
but  only  that  when  the  opportumty  pr^esented  itadi 
*k0W  drove  in  carriages.' 

'^  '  7m  \jf  plded  embroMered  cwmgei,  so  gcff^ 


8T.  PRANOIS  DB  SALBI. 


dua 


Lave 
a  pre- 
;  and 

t  with 
)  most 
yed  in 
nsity." 
point, 
ice  th6 
be  pre- 
>nt,  his 
tine  of 
»  speak 
.   Thii 
out  ths 
Lheper 


^koned 
Lpostlflf 

at  thii 
■what  ii 
les,  who 
of  Can- 
han  the 
it  suited 
Itself, 
should 
upon 

*BVL% 

to  him* 
to  him 


bimi 
itseU; 


goff^ 


oos,  and  driAwn  by  such  splendid  horses,  and  driven  bj 
eoaohmen  in  such  handsome  liveries,  that  the  lauft  him- 
self would  not  turn  out  a  grander  equipage  ? — tnis  w« 
do  not  read,  and  this  is  what  scandalises  me  in  you 
who  play  the  saint  and  are  reputed  such.  Certainly 
these  are  fine  saints  who  journey  to  Paradise  quite  at 
their  ease.' 

"  '  Alas !  sir,'  replied  our  Saint,  *  they  of  Geneva 
who  keep  possession  of  the  property  of  my  bishopric 
have  cut  the  {rrass  so  close,  that  it  is  all  I  can  do  to  live 
in  a  small  and  poor  way  upon  the  remainder.  I  never 
had  a  carnage  of  my  own,  or  the  means  of  keeping 
one. 

**  *  Then  that  grand  and  magnificent  equipage  in 
which  I  constantly  see  you  is  not  your  own  ? 

**  *  No,'  replied  the  Bishop,  '  and  you  may  well  call 
it  g^rand,  for  it  belongs  to  his  majesty,  and  is  one  of 
those  which  the  king  nas  allotted  for  the  persons  who,  ' 
hke  myself,  are  in  the  suite  of  the  princes  of  Savoy; 
you  may  know  them  by  the  king^s  livery  which  tne 
coachman  wears.' 

"  '  Well,  I  am  very  glad  of  it,  and  I  like  you  the 
better.    You  are  poor,  then,  it  seems  V 

"  *  I  do  not  complain  of  my  poverty,  since  I  have 
enough  for  a  decent  maintenance  without  superfluity ; 
and  even  if  I  suffered  something  from  straitened  circum- 
stances, t  should  do  wrong  to  complain  of  what  Jesus 
Christ  chose  for  His  life-long  portion,  living  and  dying 
in  the  arms  of  poverty.  However,  the  family  to  which 
I  belong  owing  allegiance  to  the  house  of  Savoy,  I  have 
esteemed  it  an  honour  to  accompany  the  Cardinal  of 
Savoy  on  this  journey,  and  to  be  present  at  the  cele- 
bration of  the  alliance  which  his  brother,  the  Prince  of 
Piedmont,  c«atracts  with  France  by  his  marriage  with 
Madame  the  King's  sister.' 

**  The  Protestant  was  so  well  satisfied  with  this  ex- 
planation, that  he  declared  to  him  he  would  henceforth 
hold  him  in  esteem,  and  took  his  leave  liighly  pleased. 
**  It  wu  the  Sainf  B  opinion  that  we  should  tako 


Mhi 


m 


tio 


ST.  PRANOIt  OH  tALl 


;  i' 


r:Te  of  our  reputation,  more  for  God's  service  than  fin 
«ur  own  honour,  and  rather  to  avoid  scandal  than  to 
augment  our  own  credit.  He  compared  reputation  to 
tobaooo,  which  may  be  of  service  when  used  in  modera- 
tion, and  but  seldom ;  but  wliich  injures  and  ofifuscates 
the  brain  when  indulged  in  too  often,  and  without  mode- 
ration. '  Wliat,'  he  exclaimed  one  dav,  *  is  reputation, 
that  so  many  should  sacrifice  themselves  to  tnis  idol  ? 
After  all,  it  is  but  a  dream,  a  shadow,  an  opinion,  a 
imoke,  a  praise,  the  memory  whereof  perishes  with  the 
■oond — an  esteem  sometimes  so  filse,  that  many  take 
pleasure  in  hearing  themselves  lauded  for  virtues,  of 
which  they  all  the  while  laum  they  have  the  opposite 
vices ;  and  blamed  for  feult^  with  which  they  aru  not 
ohargeable.  Those  who  cociplain  cf  calumny  are  very 
sensitive.  It  is  a  little  cross  cf  words,  which  the  wind 
disperses.  I  do  not  like  to  hear  a  person  say,  *  That 
expression  woimded  me,'  in  allusion  to  sometlung  of- 
fensive which  has  been  said  to  him ;  for  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  difference  between  the  humming  of  a  bee  and 
its  sting.  Wo  must  have  "  very  delicate  ear,  sllA  a  very 
thin  skin,  if  the  one  cannot  erdure  the  buzzing  of  a 
fly,  and  if  the  other  is  pricked  by  thet  mere  sound  of  it. 
Was  ever  a  reputation  so  torn  to  pieces  as  that  of 
Jesus  Christ  ?  What  insult  but  was  heaped  upon  Him  ? 
What  calumny  with  wV?*^  He  was  not  assailed  ?  And 
yet  the  Father  has  g:^'*;  f^im  a  Name  which  is  above 
every  name,  and  has  ex?  'ted  fiim  ib  proportion  to  His 
•basement  And  did  not  the  Apostles  go  forth  joyfully 
from  those  assembMes  w^ere  they  had  received  anronts 
for  the  name  of  Jems  f  Oh,  but  it  is  a  glory  to  suffer 
in  so  noble  a  cause !  I  understand — we  must  have  no- 
thing but  illustrious  persecutions,  that  our  light  may 
be  cusplayed  in  darkness,  and  our  vain-glory  shine  in 
the  midst  of  our  sufferings  t  We  must  be  gloriously 
emoified  I  But  do  you  suppose  thai,  when  the  martyrs 
tndnred  tosh  cruel  tortures,  they  were  praised  by  the 
•peotat(m,  and  not,  on  the  contrary,  cursed  and  held  in 
nmnH/mf    Ah.  how  few  persons  Hiere  are  who  ai* 


\\ 


I   ': 


fr.  fRAHOIt  DB  SALll 


911 


\\ 


ready  to  laorifiee  fheir  repntatioiiy  to  promote  therebj 
the  glory  of  Him  who  died  so  ignominionsly  upon  tM 
oroeei  to  merit  for  va  a  glory  that  shall  have  no  end  T 

''As  I  was  about  to  repair  to  Paris,  to  preach  the 
Lent,  he  related  to  me  the  following  anecdote,  in  order 
to  teaoh  me  to  make  little  account  of  what  people  might 
say  of  me.  The  superior  of  a  college  had  given  a  rood 
old  man  the  charge  of  a  clock,  to  prevent  time  from 
hanging  heavy  on  his  hands.  But  the  old  man,  after 
a  while,  founa  he  had  never  had  so  wonmng  and  trou- 
blesome an  office  imposed  upon  him.  '  What !'  said  th« 
superior,  *  do  you  mean  the  trouble  of  winding  it  up 
twice  a-day  V  *  Oh,  no  !*  he  replied ;  *  I  mean  the  being 
bothered  on  all  sides.'  '  How  so  V  rejoined  the  superior. 
*  It  is,*  replied  the  other,  '  because  when  the  clock  is 
rather  slow,  those  who  work  at  the  college  complain , 
and  so,  to  please  them,  I  put  it  on  a  little.  Then  the 
townspeople  &11  upon  me,  and  say  the  clock  gains;  and 
if  I  put  it  back  to  satisfy  them,  ^en  I  have  the  others 
renewing  their  complaints;  so  that  mv  head  is  just  like 
the  metal  upon  which  the  hanmier  of  the  clock  strikes, 
and  I  am  quite  bewildered  with  all  this  &ult-finding.' 
The  superior,  to  comfort  him,  said, '  I  will  give  you  a 
good  piece  of  advice,  which  will  keep  them  all  quiet 
When  the  dock  gains,  and  people  find  &ult,  say :  Leave 
it  to  me,  I  will  see  and  put  it  oack.'  '  But  the  others,' 
exclaimed  the  ffood  man,  *  will  come  open-mouthed  at 
me.'  '  Say  to  wem,'  replied  the  superior,  'Children,  let 
me  alone ;  I  will  see  that  it  does  not  lose.  But  in  the 
mean  time  leave  the  dock  alone  to  go  as  best  it  may; 
only  give  good  and  quieting  words,  and  all  will  be  satis- 
fiea,  and  you  yourself  in  peace.' 

« <  Do  you  see,'  said  our  Saint  to  me,  'you  are  about 
to  be  the  butt  of  many  contradictory  judgments.  If 
you  attend  to  what  people  say  of  you,  tnere  will  be  no 
nd  of  it.  What  is  to  oe  dam,  tuen  ?  Give  them  all 
jood  and  kind  words,  but,  after  iU,  go  your  own  wa]^; 
ysUoW  your  own  bias;  do  not  attempt  to  change  it  in 
I  ooiequottce  of  all  the  bmit  UbIh- most  of  them  oon- 


nt 


•T.  rRANOIS  DB  lALlS. 


m 


I 


trarr  to  eaoh  other — which  you  may  reoeive ;  look  to 
Oodf  and  abandon  yourself  freely  to  the  leadings  of 
His  gfrace.  It  ought  to  be  a  very  small  matter  to  us 
to  be  judged  of  men,  since  it  is  not  our  object  to  please 
them ;  it  is  God  who  is  our  Judge,  and  who  s  9  tho 
ground  of  our  hearts,  and  penetrates  the  darkness  of  its 
MO$i  hidden  recesses.' " 


m» 


^'1 

■  <   !ix 

W 

m 


m 


m 
M 


t'l. 


m 


m:n 


I  ■ 


nni  SiJVT's  DocrRiKi  of  ritKrBOTioH,  akd  modi  ov 

SnaiTUAL  OIBKOTION. 

***!  hear,'  said  our  Saint  sometimes,  'every  om 
talking  about  perfeotion,  but  I  see  very  few  persons 
who  prtectise  it.  Each  has  his  own  notion  of  it ;  some 
place  it  in  austerity  of  dress,  others  in  that  of  eating, 
others  in  almsgiving,  others  in  the  frcquentation  of  the 
sacraments,  others  m  prayer,  others  in  a  certain  species 
of  passive  and  exalted  contemplation,  others  in  those 
extraordinary  graces  which  are  called  gratuitous;  but 
ail  these  deceive  themselves,  mistaking  the  means  or 
the  effects  for  the  cause.  As  for  me,  I  know  of  no 
other  perfection  than  the  loving  God  with  all  our  heart, 
and  our  neighbour  as  ourselves.  All  other  perfection 
without  this  is  a  false  perfection.  Charity  is  the  one 
bond  of  perfection  among  Christians,  and  the  only  vir- 
tue which  unites  us  truly  with  God  and  with  our  neigh- 
hour,  which  is  our  end  and  ultimate  perfection.  This 
is  the  end  of  all  perfection,  and  the  perfection  of  every 
end.  I  know  that  austerities,  prayer,  and  other  vir- 
tuous exercises  are  excellent  means  to  advance  in  per- 
fection, provided  tliey  are  done  in  charity,  and  through 
the  motive  of  charity.  We  must  not,  however,  place 
perfection  in  the  metms,  but  in  the  end  to  which  the 
means  conduct,  otherwise  it  would  be  a  stopping  short 
in  the  middle  of  oar  road  before  we  had  reached  the 
fOtH* 

**Ont  Saint  aft  %  high  value  on  desuws,  and  itkl 


!«1 


IT.  FRANCIS  DB  IIALBt.  S18 

diat  upon  the  stood  use  of  them  depended  all  progresi 
of  thft  spiritual  edifice.  To  make  great  progress  in 
diyine  love,  wherein  consists  all  our  perfection,  we  must 
have  a  perpetual  dcsii'e  to  love  Him  more  and  more, 
and  must  resemble  those  birds  which  the  prophet  saw^ 
which  always  flew  riglit  on  without  ever  returning,  and 
that  g^eat  Apostle  who  always  pressed  forwards  with- 
out looking  back,  and  without  reckoning  that  he  had 
ever  attained  the  goal,  because  in  spiritual  things,  and 
in  divine  love,  nothing  must  ever  suffice  us ;  sufficiency 
here  consisting  principally  in  a  desire  of  greater  abuna- 
anoe,  since  in  tnis  world  charity  can  always  increase, 
however  great  we  may  imagine  it  to  be ;  its  peimanent 
and  full-grown  state  being  reserved  for  heaven.  Oh, 
how  greatly  did  he  admire  those  words  of  St.  Bernard, 
Amo  aula  amo,  amo  ut  amem.*  He  does  not  love  God 
enougn,  who  does  not  desire  to  love  Him  more.  One 
who  has  a  generous  spirit  is  not  satisfied  with  loving 
ilim  with  all  his  heait,  because,  knowing  that  God  is 
erest^r  tJian  his  heart,  he  would  wish  to  have  a  larger 
aeart,  to  love  Him  more. 

'^  He  said  that  the  most  serious  occupation  of  a  true 
and  faithful  Christian  was,  to  aim  unceasingly  at  the 
perfection  »f  his  own  state ;  that  is,  to  perfect  himself 
more  and  mure  in  the  state  of  hfe  in  wliich  he  finds 
himself.  Now,  the  perfection  of  the  state  of  each  one 
of  us  is,  to  proportion  the  means  well  to  the  end,  and 
CO  makf  *  »ise  of  cucL  rr:  ire  suited,  in  our  state,  to  ad- 
vance us  in  charity,  m  which  alone  consists  the  true 
and  essential  perfection  of  Christianity,  and  without 
which  nothing  can  be  called  perfect.  Our  Saint  recom- 
mended, above  all  things,  to  avoid  the  fault  of  over- 
eagerness,  which  he  called  the  capital  enemy  and  the 
pest  of  true  devotion.  It  is  better,  be  said,  to  do  a 
little,  and  that  well,  than  to  undertake  much,  and  exe- 
cute it  imperfectly.  It  is  not,  he  obsei*ved,  by  the 
multiplicity  of  the  things  which  we  do,  that  we  advance 

*  I  lovt  Ood  beoHiM  I  lovt  ffia,  tad  I  iov*  Him  in  ordM 
It  loT*  Him  still  btilw. 


ri 


"?p;    !(>'( 


314 


•T.  FRANCIS  DB  8ALB8. 


kf 


1', 


>  -  ■  ' 


in  perfection,  but  by  the  fervour  and  purity  of  intentioD 
wim  which  we  do  them.    Whence  we  conclude, 

"  1st.  That  our  progress  in  perfection  depends,  not 
•0  much  on  the  multitude  of  our  actions,  as  on  the  fer- 
▼our  of  holy  love  with  which  we  perform  them. 

"2d.  That  a  good  action,  performed  with  gi*eat 
fervour,  is  more  meritorious,  and  more  pleasing  to  God, 
than  many  of  the  same  sort  performed  with  tepidity 
and  remissness. 

"  8d.  That  purity  of  intention  raises  the  merit  of  a 
good  action  veiy  high ;  because,  as  the  end  of  an  ac- 
tion is  what  imparts  to  it  its  value,  the  more  pure  and 
excellent  that  end  is,  the  more  exouisite  is  the  action. 
Now,  what  worthier  end  can  we  nave  in  our  actions 
than  that  of  God's  glory  ? 

"  In  familiar  conversations  he  would  have  us  speak 
littls  and  well, — that  was  his  constant  rule;  and  in 
action  he  would  have  us  not  attempt  so  much,  but  per- 
form what  little  we  did  wltiu  great  perfection.  He 
highly  Improved  of  that  saying  of  an  ancient  emperor. 
Festina  tente*  Another  of  his  favourite  mottoes  wai 
*  Soon  enough,  if  well  enough.' 

"  And  wlien  it  was  objected  to  him.  What,  then,  is 
to  become  of  that  insatiable  love  of  which  the  masters 
of  the  spiritual  hfe  speak — that  love  which  never  says 
it  is  enough,  which  never  thinks  it  has  reached  its  goal, 
but  which  is  always  pushing  on  with  quick  steps  / — he 
replied :  '  It  is  by  the  roots  we  must  make  progi*ess  in 
this  love,  rather  than  by  the  branches.'  Wnich  he  ex- 
olained  thus :  '  To  grow  in  branches  is  to  perform  p 
multitude  of  virtuous  actions,  of  which  many  are  no» 
only  defective,  but  often  superfluous,  and  like  those  use- 
less vine-branches  which  must  be  pnmed  to  enrich  the 
firuit ;  and  to  grow  in  root  is  to  perform  few  works,  but 
with  much  perfection,  that  is,  with  much  love  of  God, 
wherein  consists  ail  the  perfection  of  a  Christian.  It  is 
to  this  that  ihe  Apostle  exhorts  us,  when  he  tells  no  to 
be  rooted  and/oMuled  in  charity ,  if  we  would  know  ^^ 
*  ICak*  hMto  ilowlj. 


/ 


■i..-^,.  .f^^^.-.,.^  ^    — ---ri-liiirfMii 


•T.  FRANCIS  DB  SALES.  915 

tharity  of  Christ f  which  mrpasseth  knowledge.*  But  it 
may  be  said :  Can  we  do  too  much  for  God?  and  must  we 
not  make  haste  to  press  on  before  the  night  of  death  comes, 
when  no  one  can  work ;  must  we  not  do  all  the  good  we 
can,  while  we  have  the  time  ?  All  these  are  adorable 
truths,  and  worthy  of  our  deep  consideration ;  but  they 
are  not  contraiT  to  this  maxim,  rather  to  perform  a  few 

food  and  per^ct  actions  than  many  imperfect  ones. 
'o  make  a  solid  progress  in  perfection,  it  is  not  so  much 
question  of  multiplying'  exercises  as  increasing  the  fer- 
vour, the  strength,  and  the  purity  of  divine  love  in  our 
ordinary  actions,  since  a  small  virtue  animated  by  an 
ardent,  strong,  and  pure  charity,  is  incomparably  more 
pleasing  to  God,  and  gives  Him  more  glory,  than  a 
more  shining  one  performed  with  a  tardy,  weak,  and 
less  purified  charity.* 

"  Our  Saint,  with  reference  to  this  subject,  told  us 
one  day  that  some  good  nuns  had  once  said  to  him, 
*  What  shall  we  do,  sir,  this  year  ?  Last  year  we  fasted 
three  times  in  the  week,  and  took  the  discipline  as 
often.  What  shall  we  do  now  ?  for  of  course  we  must 
do  something  more  this  yeoi*,  both  as  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  gratitude  to  God  for  the  past,  and  also  that  we 
may  continually  advance  in  His  service.*  '  You  are 
quite  right,*  I  replied, '  in  saying  that  we  must  be  con- 
tinually advancing ;  but  our  progress  is  not  effected,  as 
Tou  imagine,  by  the  multitude  of  our  pious  exercises, 
out  by  the  perfection  with  which  we  perform  them, 
ever  placing  more  confidence  in  God  and  feeling  greater 
mistrust  of  ourselves.  Last  year  you  fasted  three  times 
a  week  and  took  the  discipline  three  times;  if  you 
wish  always  to  double  your  exercises,  you  must  give 
the  whole  week  to  them  this  year ;  but  what  will  you 
do  next  year  ?  You  will  have  to  make  nine  days  in 
the  week,  or  make  a  double  fast  each  day.  Great  is 
their  folly  who  amuse  themselves  with  desiring  to  go 
and  be  martyred  in  the  Indies,  and  meanwhile  do  not 
apply  themselves  to  the  duties  of  their  own  state ;  but 

•  £ph.  til.  17, 18. 


51'i^t.; 


f^-im 


?ii 


ib^ 


''1 


IrJ" 


•( 


'  III        1 


>;!   ! 


h    ri 


ne 


■T.  FRANCIS  DS  SALBt. 


great  also  is  the  delusion  of  those  who  would  eat  more 
than  they  can  digest.  We  have  not  enough  spiritual 
warmth  to  digest  well  all  that  we  take  in  hand  for  our 
perfection,  and  yet  we  will  not  lay  aside  this  anxious 
•pint  which  possesses  us  of  desiring  to  do  a  great  deal.' 

"  Devotion,  he  said,  was  a  gentle  and  tranquil  fer- 
vour, while  eageraess  was  an  indiscreet  and  tiirbiilent 
bubble,  and  pulls  down  while  it  thinks  to  build  up. 
Of  all  the  various  species  of  eagerness,  he  above  aU 
blamed  that  of  trying  to  do  several  things  at  once. 
He  compared  it  to  endeavouring  to  thread  more  than 
one  needle  at  the  same  time.  He  who  undertakes  two 
works  at  once  succeeds  in  neither.  When  he  was 
doing  any  thing,  or  speaking  of  any  matter,  he  gave 
his  whole  mind  to  it,  as  if  that  were  his  only  business, 
and  as  if  it  were  the  last  work  he  should  have  to  per- 
form in  this  world.  Sometimes,  when  he  was  seen 
to  spend  even  whole  hours  T-iih  persons  of  no  conse- 
quence, who  were  talking  to  him  of  things  of  trifling 
importance,  he  would  say,  "These  matters  appear  to 
them  weighty,  and  they  desire  to  be  comfortea,  as  if 
they  were  so  in  fact.  God  knows,  I  do  not  require  any 
higher  employment.  All  occupations  are  equal  to  me, 
provided*  they  concern  His  service.  While  I  am  en- 
g^agfed  in  these  little  works,  I  am  not  bound  to  be  doing 
any  thing  else.  Is  not  the  doin^  God's  will  a  sufB- 
ciently  great  work  ?  We  make  little  actions  great  by 
performing  them  with  a  great  desire  to  please  God ; 
the  merit  of  our  services  consisting  not  in  the  excel- 
lency of  the  work,  but  in  the  love  which  accompanies 
chem,  and  the  merit  of  that  love  in  its  purity,  and  of 
that  purity  in  its  unity  of  intention.' 

"  Although  our  Saint  possessed  the  most  eminent 
virtues,  nevertheless  he  had  a  tender  love  for  the 
smallest,  that  is  for  those  which  appear  such  in  men's 
eyes ;  for  there  •  are  none,  especially  of  the  infused, 
which  are  not  great  in  the  sight  of  God.  *  Every  body,' 
he  said, '  desires  to  possess  the  splendid  and  striking 
virtaM  which  an  »tt«ob«d  to  the  summit  of  the  0101% 


BT.  FRANOIB  OB  SALES. 

'Jiat  they  may  Im  visible  from  afar  and  adm  irea  of  me 
But  few  seek  to  gather  those  which,  like  tlio  sweei 
thyme,  grow  at  the  foot  and  in  tlie  shadow  of  this  titv 
oi^life.  And  yet  these  are  the  most  fragrant,  ana 
have  been  more  abundantly  watered  with  the  Saviour's 
Blood;  who  taught  Christians,  as  their  first  lesson,  to 
learn  of  Him,  who  was  meek  and  humble  of  Jisart.* 
Every  one  is  not  called  upon  to  exercise  tne  heroic 
virtues  of  fortitude,  magnanimity,  magnificence,  mar^ 
tyrdom,  endurance,  constancy,  valour.  The  opportu- 
nities for  practising  these  are  rare ;  and  yet  all  aspire 
to  them,  because  they  are  striking  and  glorious ;  and 
often  it  will  happen  that  pei-sons,  imagining  they  are 
capable  of  them,  become  puffed  up  with  a  vain  self- 
confidence,  and  when  the  time  for  action  comes,  tumbl« 
upon  their  noses.  We  do  not  meet  with  opportunities 
for  making  large  siuns  of  money  every  day,  but  every 
day  we  can  gain  farthings  and  pence ;  and  by  econo- 
mising well  these  little  profits,  we  may  in  time  grow 
rich.  We  should  heap  up  great  spiritual  riches,  and 
lay  up  much  treasure  in  heaven,  if  we  employed  in 
the  service  of  the  holy  love  of  God  all  the  trivial  occa- 
sions which  are  presenting  themselves  every  moment. 
It  is  not  sufficient  to  perform  actions  of  great  virtue,  if 
we  do  not  perform  them  with  great  charity ;  for  it  is 
this  virtue  which  gives  the  foundation,  the  weight,  the 
mice,  and  the  vtuue  to  good  works  in  the  sight  cl 
God ;  and  an  action  of  small  virtue  (for  all  virtues  are 
not  equal  in  their  nature)  performed  with  much  love  of 
God,  IS  far  more  excellent  than  one  of  a  higher  virtue 
done  with  less  love  of  God.  A  cup  of  cold  water  given 
with  this  great  love  is  meritorious  of  eternal  life.  Two 
pieces  of  money  of  very  trifling  value,  given  with  this 
same  love  by  a  poor  widow,  were  preferred  by  Jesus 
Christ  Himself  to  the  costly  presents  which  the  rich 
east  into  the  treasury.  People  set  little  value  on 
thoM  slight  acts  of  condescension  to  the  tiresome  ha* 


'^1 

IT 


I 


1)9 


1^ 


I 


*  St.  HattbAw  zL  M 


918 


ST.  FRAKCI8  DB  SALES. 


H   I 


fsK'^ 


iV^  m 


monrs  of  our  neighbour,  on  bearing  his  imperfectiooi 
with  sweetness,  and  modestly  putting  up  with  his  dis- 
i^^reeable  behaviour;  on  the  We  oi  contempt  and  of 
our  own  humiliation;  on  natience  under  some  slight 
injustice,  or  preference  of  others  to  ourselves,  or  afiront 
received,  or  on  the  performance  of  lowly  actions  be- 
neath our  condition ;  on  receiving  thankfully ;  on  hum* 
bling  ourselves  to  equals  and  inferiors,  and  ti«ating  our 
servants  with  consideration  and  kindness  :  all  this  seems 
very  pitiful  to  those  whose  heart  is  lofty,  and  whose 
eyes  are  exalted.  We  would  have  nothing  but  showy 
and  well-dressed  virtues,  which  reflect  credit  on  us, 
without  considering  that  they  who  would  please  men 
are  not  the  servants  of  God,  and  that  the  friendship  of 
the  world  makes  us  the  enemies  of  God.' " 

It  was  consistent  with  these  views  that  this  great 
Saint  should  have  attached  much  higher  importance  to 
internal  than  to  exterior  mortification,  and  that  his 
method  was  to  be^n  from  within,  laying  a  solid  foun- 
dation for  the  spiritual  life,  and  drawing  persons  on 
gently  to  those  external  remmciations  which  were  the 
DTuit  of  a  genuine  humility  and  love  of  God. 

**  He  was  in  the  habit  of  saying,"  observes  M.  de 
Belley,  **  that  grace  in  general  imitates  nature  and  not 
art,  which  only  v^orks  externally,  as,  for  instance,  in 
painting  and  sculpture,  whereas  nature  begins  its  works 
from  within ;  hence  the  saying,  that  the  heart  is  the 
first,  to  live,  and  the  last  to  die.  When  endeavouring 
to  lead  souls  to  a  Christian  life,  and  to  c^et  them  to  ^ve 
up  their  worldly  habits,  he  did  not  talk  to  them  of  ex- 
tem£:ls,  neither  of  their  hair,  nor  their  dress,  nor  such 
like  things ;  he  spoke  only  to  the  heart  and  of  the  heart ; 
knowing  well  that  if  that  fortress  was  gained,  the  rest 
would  never  hold  out.  *  See,  when  a  house  is  on  fire,'  he 
SLid,  'how  people  throw  all  the  furniture  out  at  the 
:  indows.  When  the  true  love  of  God  gains  possession 
of  a  heart,  all  which  is  not  God  seems  but  little  worth.' 
Some  one  expressing  surprise,  one  day,  that  a  distin- 
fuiiF had  lady  of  great  piety«  who  was  under  his  diree 


erfeotioai 
1  his  dis- 
)t  and  of 
ne  slight 
or  afiront 
tions  be- 
on  hum* 
ating  our 
his  seems 
nd  whose 
ut  showy 
it  on  us, 
ease  men 
indship  of 

his  great 
}rtance  to 
that  his 
olid  foun- 
ersons  on 
were  the 

ves  M.  de 
■e  and  not 
stance,  in 
I  its  works 
art  is  the 
eavouring 
im  to  ffive 
lem  ol  ex- 
,  nor  such 
the  heart ; 
[,  the  rest 
m  6re/  he 
lut  at  the 
possession 
ue  worth/ 
i  a  distin- 
his  diree 


fT.  FRANOll  DI  SALIS. 


Sl» 


tun,  had  not  fyen.  left  off  wearing  ear-rings,  ho  replied, 
'  I  assure  you  I  do  not  so  much  as  know  whether  she 
has  any  ears;  for  she  comes  to  confession  with  her  head 
M  completely  covered  up,  or  with  a  great  scarf  so 
thrown  over  it,  that  I  do  not  know  how  she  is  dressed. 
Besides,  I  believe  that  that  holy  woman,  Rebecca,  who 
was  quite  as  virtuous  as  nhe  is,  lost  nothing  of  her 
holiness  by  wearing  the  ear-rings  which  Eliezer  pre- 
sented her  on  the  part  of  Isaac'  This  same  lady, 
having  caused  some  diamonds  to  be  set  upon  a  gold 
cross  she  wore,  was  accused  to  the  holy  Bishop  of  vanity 
on  this  account,  who  replied,  that  what  was  reprehended 
as  an  instance  of  vanity,  was  to  him  matter  of  much 
edification.  *  Would,'  he  said,  '  that  all  the  crosses  in 
the  world  were  covered  with  diamonds  and  all  manner 
of  precious  stones:  is  not  this  to  devote  the  spoils  of 
the  Egyptians  to  the  service  of  the  tabernacle,  and  to 
glory  m  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ?  What  better  use 
can  she  make  of  her  jewels  than  to  adorn  with  them 
the  standard  of  our  redemption?'  All  through  love, 
nothing  through  constraint :  this  was  his  great  motto, 
and  the  mainspring  of  his  direction.  I  have  often  heard  ^ 
him  make  this  beautiful  observation : '  In  the  royal  gal 
ley  of  divine  love  there  is  no  galley-slave;  all  the  row 
ers  are  volunteers.'  Upon  this  prmciple  he  never  gave 
a  command  except  in  the  fonn  of  persuasion  or  r -'quest. 
He  desired  that  m  matters  of  spiritual  government  men 
should  deal  with  souls  according  to  the  mode  observed 
by  God  and  His  angels, — leading  them  by  inspirations, 
sug^stions,  illuminations,  remonstrances,  entreaties,  so- 
licitations, in  all  patience  and  doctrine ;  knocking  like 
the  spouse  at  the  door  of  heai*ts,  gently  pressing  against 
diem  that  they  may  open ;  if  so  be  they  open,  intro- 
ducing salvation  into  them  with  joy;  if  they  refuse, 
bearing  the  denial  with  gentleness. 

**  As  I  complained  to  the  Saint  of  the  opposition  I 
met  with,  in  my  diocesan  visits,  to  the  good  I  wished 
to  effect;  'What  a  domineering  spirit  you  have!'  he 
'  You  want  to  walk  upoi^  the  wings  of  the  wind; 


Hi    < 

( 


■  '•    «.. 


fT.  VBAMOIS  DE  8ALBS. 


H ;  I ! 


f!^' 


k"A. 


W    ' 


"'it!'     =   ! 


you  Iflt  yonr  seal  cany  yor  away.  You  want  to  do 
more  than  God,  and  constrain  the  wills  of  creatui'os 
whom  God  has  made  iree.  You  deal  summarily,  as  it 
the  wills  of  your  priests  were  all  in  your  hands.  But 
God,  in  whose  hands  are  the  hearts  or  all  men,  does  not 
tot  thus.  He  hears  with  resistance  and  rebellion  against 
the  light  He  gives ;  He  allows  His  inspirations  to  he 
opposed,  even  to  the  grieving  of  His  Spirit ;  and  finally 
Buffers  those  to  destroy  themselves  who,  thi'ough  the 
hai'dness  of  their  impenitent  hearts,  heap  up  treasures 
of  wrath  against  the  day  of  vengeance.  Nevertheless, 
He  ceases  not  to  send  them  inspirations,  although  men 
resist  His  attractions,  and  say  to  Him :  Depart  ^m  us ; 
we  will  not  follow  your  ways.  Our  guardian  angels 
imitate  His  behaviour  in  this  respect ;  and  thous'h  we 
abandon  God  by  our  iniquities,  they  do  not  abandon  us. 
Do  you  desire  Mtter  examples  for  the  regulation  of  your 
eondnct?' 

"  He  was  frequently  employed  to  bring  about  the 
reform  of  religious  houses;  out  his  method  was  to  ad- 
vance very  gently,  pi-actising  his  own  device  of  making 
haste  slowly ;  for  tnough  divine  grace  does  not  love 
delays,  nevertheless  he  would  not  have  one  push  on 
with  an  injudicious  fervour,  which  is  always  going  into 
extremes,  and  fails  of  doing  good  irom  wishmg  to  do 
too  much  at  once.  He  desired  to  advance  step  oy  step, 
often  repeating  that  saying  of  the  wise  man,  that  *  the 
path  jf  the  just  as  a  shining  light  goeth  forwards  and 
tncreaseth  even  to  perfect  dai/J*  *  True  progress,'  he 
said,  'is  from  the  less  to  the  greater.  God  Himself, 
who  has  no  need  of  time  to  bring  things  to  perfectiou 
although  He  powerfVdly  accomplishes  the  end  He  pro- 
poses to  Himself,  effects  it  by  such  gentle  methods, 
that  they  are  almost  imperceptible.'  He  did  not  follow 
the  example  of  those  who  begin  reforiaation  by  the  ex- 
terior, in  order  to  arrive,  as  they  sav,  at  the  interior, 
and  stop  so  long  at  the  bark,  that  they  forcret  the  pith. 
In  introdudug  a  reform  into  monastMMa  be-  iMsstMl  is 

•  FNf.  if,  1ft. 


;i 


'!  ini 


fT.  FRANCIS  1>E  tJALES. 


2S1 


those  of  men  only  on  two  poini3, — the  exercise  of  me- 
tal pi*ayer,  with  its  inseparable  companion,  spiritual 
reading",  and  the  freq\ienting'  uf  the  two  sacraments  of 
penance  and  the  Holy  Eucharist.  *  With  these,'  he  said, 

*  all  will  be  broug-ht  about  without  effort  and  without 
contradiction,  gently  and  grad\ially.'  For  women,  he 
required  but  two  thing's ;  one  corporal,  the  other  spi- 
ritual. 1.  Enclosure,  as  enjoined  by  the  Council  of  Trent : 
without  the  observance  of  this  rule,  he  did  not  think  they 
could  live  with  leputation,  or  safety  to  their  honour. 
2.  Mental  prayer  twice  a  day,  half  an  hour  each  time. 

*  With  attention  to  these  points,*  he  said,  *  a  convent  of 
women  can  be  very  easily  brong-ht  back  to  their  duty 
and  the  observance  of  their  rule.'  Of  austerities  and 
corporal  mortifications  he  said  nothing,  recommending 
no  fasts  beyond  those  of  the  Church,  neither  bare  feet, 
nor  abstinence  froni  meat,  nor  disuse  of  linen,  nornight- 
watchings,  nor  so  many  other  mortifications; — holy 
practices,  it  is  true,  but  which  in  themselves  regard  only 
the  exterior.  Being  consulted  one  day  upon  the  intro- 
duction of  bare  feet  into  a  religious  house,  he  replied, 

*  Why  don't  they  leave  their  shoes  and  stockings  alone  ? 
it  is  the  head  that  wants  reforming,  not  the  feet.*  He 
considered  that  indiscieet  austerities  are  one  of  the 
snai'es  into  which  those  who  are  entering  on  a  devout 
life  ai*e  apt  to  fall.  They  fancy  they  can  never  do  too 
much,  as  if  they  would  oy  main  force  repair  their  past 
faults ;  hud  they  never  think  they  ai'e  doing  so  well  as 
when  they  are  spoiling  every  thing.  The  evil  spirit, 
who  can  fashion  his  arrows  against  us  out  of  all  kinds 
of  wood,  makes  use  of  these  immoderate  fervours  to  ren- 
der them  subsequently  unfit  for  the  service  of  God,  for 
wa^it  of  bodily  vigour.  We  ought  to  be  more  discreet, 
and  remember  that  God  desires  of  us  a  reasonable  ser- 
vice. St.  Beraard,  in  the  early  days  of  his  conversion, 
RvX^iill  'd.  '■  X)n  that  stone ;  and  towards  the  end  of  his 
Hfe  he  blfiuiol  his  past  austeiities  as  others  blame  their 
excesses,  and  in  his  humility  called  them  the  errors  ol 
his  ysattL    To  a  nun  who,  from  a  motive  of  penance^ 


t 


m:mm 

If  ■  f'  ■  - ' 


Mi' 


mn 


limmi 


I!.' 


fiif 


S2S 


•T.  FRANCIS  DB  8ALU. 


had  undertaken  mora  bodily  austerities  than  her  deli* 
cate  and  feeble  constitution  could  support,  our  Saint 

fave  this  counsel,  woithy  of  his  gentleness  and  pru- 
ence :  '  Do  not  burden  your  weak  body  with  any  aus- 
terity beyond  what  your  rule  imposes.  Preserve  youi 
bodily  strength  to  serve  God  m  spiritwd  exerciseSi 
which  we  ai'e  often  obliged  to  retrench  when  we  have 
indiscreetly  overladen  the  soul's  fellow-labourer  in  their 
performance.  Very  few  persons,  even  among  such  as 
are  spiritual,  hold  the  balance  fairly  in  this  matter ;  the 
spirit,  which  is  willing,  almost  always  overloading  the 
flesh,  which  is  weak.  They  do  not  reflect  that  as  the 
spirit  cannot  bear  the  flesh  when  it  is  too  well  fed,  neither 
con  the  flesh  support  the  spirit  when  it  is  kept  too  low.' 
"  Interior  mortifications  are  incomparably  more  ex- 
cellent than  external  ones,  and  they  ai*e  not  subject,  like 
the  latter,  to  hypocrisy,  vanity,  and  indiscretion.  And 
those  which  God  sends  us,  or  which  come  to  us  on  the 
pai't  of  men  by  His  jiermission,  are  always  more  pre- 
cious than  such  as  are  the  ofl^pring  of  our  own  will. 
These  prove  a  stumbling-block  to  many  who  embrace 
with  eagerness  the  mortifications  which  their  inclina- 
tion suggests,  and  which,  notwithstanding  their  appa- 
rent severity,  are  no  great  trouble  to  them,  on  account 
of  the  facihty  which  their  own  predilection  imparts ;  but 
when  they  encounter  some  which  proceed  from  another 
cause,  they  find  them  insupportable,  however  slight  they 
may  be.  For  instance,  such  a  one  will  have  a  strong 
inclination  for  the  discipline,  for  hair-shirts,  fasts,  and 
sackcloth,  but  will  be  so  sensitive  withal  about  his  repu- 
tation, that  the  most  trifling  jest  or  unfavourable  obser- 
vation  will  put  him  out  of  oreath,  and  will  trouble  his 
peace  of  mind  and  prejudice  his  reason,  can*ying  him  on 
to  deplorable  extremities.  Another  will  apply  himsell 
with  ardour  to  the  exercises  of  prayer  and  penance  and 
the  practice  of  silence,  who  will  give  way  to  excessive 
impatience  and  anger,  and  fly  out  in  unmeasured  la- 
mentations at  the  loss  of  a  law-suit,  or  some  trifling 
damage  to  property.    A  third  will  give  alms  libendlj^ 


il'li 


]} 


•T.  FRAirOIB  Dl  SALM. 

and  found  magnificent  obaritable  establishments,  wbj 
will  break  forth  in  groanp  and  tremble  with  fear  at  th« 
slightest  infirmity  or  sicl^ess,  and  firom  whom  the  most 
trifling'  bodily  pain  draws  untold  and  interminable  la- 
mentations. According  as  each  is  severally  attached 
to  the  good  things  which  minister  to  honour,  pofit,  or 
pleasure,  they  bear  with  more  or  less  patience  the  ills 
which  are  contrary  to  these  species  of  goods,  without 
considering  that  it  is  the  hana  of  God  which  bestows 
and  takes  them  away,  according  to  His  pleasure.  It  is, 
in  fact,  that  we  wish  to  serve  God,  not  according  to  His 
Will,  but  according  to  our  own ;  in  our  way,  not  His. 
Do  you  think  this  is  just? 

"  To  cure  this  malady  of  the  soul,  our  Saint  ad- 
dresses it  in  these  tenns :  *  Kiss  frequently  in  your  heart 
the  crosses  which  our  Lord  Himself  has  laid  upon  you. 
Do  not  stop  to  examine  if  the  wood  of  which  they  are 
composed  is  precious  or  odoriferous.  They  are  more 
frequently  crosses  when  they  are  of  a  coirimon,  vile,  and 
unfraffrant  wood.  It  is  a  good  thing  that  this  thought 
should  be  ever  recurring  to  me,  and  that  it  should  be 
the  only  song  I  know;  doubtless  it  is  the  son^  of 
the  Lamb ;  it  is  somewhat  sad,  but  it  is  sweet  and  nar- 
monious :  FatJiery  not  as  I  nUlf  but  as  Thou  milt. 
Magdalen  seeks  our  Lord  while  holding  Him.  She  in- 
Quires  for  Him  of  Himself.  She  did  not  see  Him  in 
tne  form  she  desired,  and  so  she  was  not  satisfied  with 
seeing  Him  thus ;  she  sought  Him,  that  she  might  find 
Him  otherwise.  She  desired  to  see  Him  in  His  robe 
of  glory,  and  not  in  the  mean  habit  of  a  gardener.  Ne- 
vertheless, she  knew  Him  when  He  said  to  her  Mary. 
Do  you  see  it  is  our  Jjord  in  the  gardener^s  dress  whom 
you  meet  every  day  here  and  there  in  the  little  conunon 
mortifications  which  happen  to  you  ?  you  would  wish 
Him  to  offer  you  more  oriUiant  mortinoations.  0  my 
Lord,  the  most  brilliant  are  not  the  best.  Do  you  not 
believe  that  He  says  to  yo'2,  Mary,  Mary?  No,  be- 
fore you  behold  Him  in  His  fjlarj,  He  wishes  to  plant 
in  your  garden  many  littls  kmlj  flonrera,  but  flowen 


n 


\ 


I,, 


M 


i]:: 


Bm\i 


ii-: 


194 


•T.  FRANOia  DB  flLlt. 


much  to  His  taste ;  this  is  why  He  wean  thii  ftttirai 
May  our  hearts  be  ever  united  to  His,  and  our  wills  to 
His  ffood  pleasure !' 

^^Our  Saint  was  lu  the  habit  of  blaming  a  rather 
common  mistake  amongst  persons  making  a  special  pro* 
fession  of  pietj ,  who  frequently  apply  themselves  to  the 
practice  of  the  virtues  least  conformable  to  their  state^ 
and  neglect  those  which  are  the  most  suited  to  it.  *  This 
disorder/  he  said,  'proceeds  from  the  distaste  which  men 
very  commonly  feel  for  the  occupations  which  their  du- 
ties impoM  upon  them.  As  relaxation  gradually  finds 
its  way  into  convents  when  their  inmates  wish  to  linut 
themselves  to  the  practice  of  the  virtues  belonging  to 
the  secular  state ;  so,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  source  of 
no  less  trouble  ixi  private  families,  where  an  indiscreet 
and  injudicious  devotion  would  seek  to  introduce  into 
them  the  exercises  of  the  cloister.  Some  persons  fancy 
they  are  highly  extolling  a  secular  household,  when 
they  say  it  resembles  a  religious  house,  and  that  the  life 
led  within  it  is  quite  conventual ;  forgetting  that  this  if 
to  seek  to  gather  figs  on  thom-buslies,  or  grapes  on 
brambles.  Not  but  that  these  exercises  are  good  and 
holy ;  but  we  must  consider  and  take  into  account  the 
circumstances  of  place,  time,  persons,  and  condition. 
An  ill-ordered  charity  is  no  longer  charity ;  it  is  a  fish 
out  of  water,  and  a  tree  transplanted  into  a  soil  which  if 
not  fit  for  it.'  He  compared  this  inconsistency  of  mind. 
which  exhibits  so  great  a  deficiency  of  good  sense  ana 
judgment,  to  the  caprice  of  those  epicures  who  wish  to 
nave  fresh  cherries  at  Chiistmas,  and  ice  in  the  month 
of  August,  not  being  satisfied  with  eating  of  each  thing 
in  its  proper  season. 

^'There  is  nothing  so  common  in  the  world,  and 
perhaps  out  of  the  world,  as  dissatisfaction  with  our 
state  in  life.  When  the  enemy  cannot  induce  us  to  sia 
by  open  temptations,  ho  attacks  us  on  one  side,  and 
when  he  cannot  make  us  stumble,  he  does  all  he.  can  to 
disturb  us ;  and  there  are  no  more  vexatious  subjeoti 
of  disquietude,  ot  produotive  of  more  liittenMiiy  this 


Attiftu 

irillsto 

rather 
ial  pro- 
SCO  the 
r  state; 
.  *Thi8 
Loh  men 
leir  du- 
ly finds 
to  limit 
ging  to 
ource  of 
idiscreet 
lice  into 
as  fancy 
i,  when 
b  the  life 
it  this  !■ 
■apes  on 
ood  and 
9unt  the 
mdition. 
is  a  fish 
which  if 
)f  mind. 
)nse  ana 
wish  to 
month 
)h  thing 

^Id,  and 
rith  our 
tosia 
|de,  and 
le.oan  to 
jguhjeoti 
tbiB 


IT.  PHAMOIf  PI  tALIf. 

Ao.K  which  incline  us  to  dissatisfaction  with  our  state 
fan  life.  The  Holy  Spirit  speaking  in  the  Scriptures  cries 
CO  us,  Let  every  one  abiae  in  the  state  to  which  Ood 
hte  called  him;  and  the  evil  spirit  suggests  nothing  so 
much  to  us  as  to  leave  and  change  it.  This  is  why  the 
great  secret  is  to  stick  firmly  hy  the  hoat  in  which  God 
has  placed  us,  that  we  may  make  a  prosperous  voyage 
through  life  to  the  harbour  of  a  blessed  etomity.  ouch 
was  our  Saint's  opinion,  which  he  thus  expressed :  *  Do 
not  amuse  your  mind  with  other  matters.  Do  not  sow 
your  desires  in  other  men's  fields ;  be  contented  with 
cultivating  your  own  well.  Desire  not  to  be  what  you 
are  not,  but  desire  to  be  excellently  well  what  you  are. 
Let  your  thoughte  be  occupied  with  perfecting  yourseli 
in  this,  and  in  bearing  the  crosses,  be  they  great  or 
small,  which  you  meet  therein.  BeUeve  me.  tms  is  the 
ffreat  secret,  and  the  least  understood  of  the  spiritual 
ufe.  Each  loves  according  to  his  taste,  few  according 
to  their  duty  and  our  Loras  taste.  What  is  the  use  of 
bviilr'ln^  castles  in  Spain  (castles  in  the  air),  if  our  lot 
is  cist  m  France  ?  It  is  my  old  lesson.  You  know  it 
well.* " 

To  sum  up,  as  given  by  M.  de  Belley,  the  opinions 
of  St.  Francis  upon  the  relative  importance  of  uie  vir- 
tues as  conducing  to  our  perfection : 

'^  1.  He  preferred  those  the  practice  of  which  if  the 
most  firequent  and  common,  to  such  as  are  seldomer 
called  into  exercise. 

"  2.  He  would  not  have  us  judge  of  the  comparative 
supernatural  merit  of  a  virtue  by  the  greatness  of  its 
external  act ;  inasmuch  as  a  virtue  apparently  small  may 
be  practised  with  much  grace  and  charity,  and  a  more 
splendid  one  with  a  ver^  feeble  degree  of  the  love  of 
God,  which  nevertheless  is  the  rule  and  the  measure  of 
their  true  value  in  His  sight. 

**  3.  He  preferred  the  more  universal  virtues  to  mioh 
as  me  more  limited  in  their  reach,  charity  alwm 
excepted.  For  instance,  he  had  a  higher  esteem  ror 
prayer,  which  is  the  tor^  of  all  the  rest;  for  deTotioB, 


M" 


m  ' 


•T.  FKANOM  DB  flMt. 

whieh  consecrates  fdl  our  actions  to  the  serrioe-of  God : 
for  humility,  which  makes  us  have  a  low  opinion  oi 
ourselves  and  of  our  actions :  for  gentleness,  which 
makes  us  yield  to  every  one :  for  patience,  which  makes 
us  endure  all  thingp^;  than  for  magnanimity,  magnifi- 
cence, or  liberality,  both  because  they  regara  fewer  ob- 
jects, and  because  they  have  less  scope. 

"  4.  The  shining  virtues  were  regarded  by  him  with 
•  little  suspicion;  for  their  splendour,  he  observed, 
gives  a  strong  handle  to  vain-glory,  which  is  the  very 
Doison  of  all  virtue. 

*'■  5.  He  blamed  those  who  esteem  virtuee  only  ac- 
cording to  the  value  set  upon  them  by  the  gpenerality 
of  men,  who  are  very  bad  judges  of  that  kind  of  mer- 
chandise. Thus,  they  will  prefer  temporal  to  si)iritual 
alms;  hair-shirts,  fasting,  and  bodily  austerities,  to 
meekness,  modesty,  and  mortification  of  heart,  which 
are  nevertheless  far  more  excellent 

**  6.  He  reproved  also  those  who  would  only  pno- 
tise  the  virtues  which  were  conformable  to  their  taste, 
without  troubling  themselves  about  those  which  more 
especially  belonged  to  their  office  and  the  duties  of  their 
state,  serving  God  according  to  their  own  fashion,  not 
according  to  His  will;  which  ii  so  ^requect  an  aouse, 
that  wo  see  numbers  of  persons,  and  thoM  among  tbf 
devont,  who  are  earned  away  by  it*' 


!  I 


m'M. 


M   1 


h;i 


aAnra^B  MomTmoATioir,  ajto  his  oranoiis  non  nam 

•UBJaCT  AMD  THAT  07  nUTIB. 

**  It  was  a  golden  saymg  of  our  Saint,  and  one  I 
fiave  sometimes  heard  from  nis  own  lips,  ^at  he  who 
mortifies  tLe  most  his  natural  inclinations,  attracts  the 
greater  abundance  of  supernatural  inspirations;  and 
assuredly  interior  and  exterior  mortification  are  a  great 
means  to  draw  down  upon  us  the  &vonr8  of  heaven* 
m^vided  they  bo  practised  in  and  by  charity.    Ai  ths 


fGodt 

aion  <n 
whioh 
imakei 
aagnifi- 
wer  ob* 

imwith 
Menredy 
lieTery 

mly  ac- 
nerali^ 
of  mer- 
Bpiritaal 
itiesy  to 
i,  whioh 

lypno- 
ir  taste, 
oh  mora 
i  of  their 
lion.  liot 

I  EDUM, 

ong  tbi 


irnn 

id  onol 
he  who 
raots  the 
is;  and 
)  a  great 
heaveiu 
Aathn 


•V.  FRANCIS  DB  iALlf.  ■ 

heaTenly  manna  wai  not  ffiven  to  Israel  in  the  dese  • 
until  they  had  consumed  tSl  the  flour  they  had  broughc 
out  cf  Egypt,  so  also  the  divine  favours  are  sel(&m 
▼uuohsafed  tu  tliose  who  are  stiU  following  their  worldly 
inclinations.  It  was  his  opinion,  that  mortification  with- 
out prayer  was  a  body  without  a  soul;  and  prayer  with- 
out mortification  a  soul  without  a  body.  Ho  wished 
these  two  to  be  never  separated,  but  that,  like  Martha 
and  Maiy,  they  should,  without  disputing,  combine  to 
serve  the  Lord.  He  wmpai'ed  them  to  tne  two  scaIoi 
of  a  balance,  of  whi(  h  the  one  rises  when  the  othei 
sinks.  To  raise  the  mind  by  prayer,  the  body  must  be 
kept  down  by  mortification ;  otherwise  the  flesh  wih 
weig'h  down  the  sprit,  and  hinder  it  firom  raising  itseb 
to  God.  The  lily  and  the  .t)8e  of  piayer  and  contem- 
plation are  preserved  and  nourished  well  only  amidst 
the  thorns  of  mortification.  We  ascend  the  mil  of  in- 
cense, the  symbol  of  prayer,  only  b^  the  mountain  oi 
the  myrrh  of  mortification.    Incense  itself,  which  re- 

E resents  i)rayer,  exhales  its  fragrance  only  when  it  u 
umt;  neither  can  prayer  asc  jndto  heaven  with  a  sweet 
tdour,  unless  it  proceeds  from  a  moitified  person.  When 
we  are  dead  to  ourselves  and  our  passions,  it  is  then 
that  we  live  to  (lod,  and  that  He  feeds  us  in  time  of 
prayer  with  the  bread  of  life  and  light,  and  with  the 
manna  of  His  inspirations 

'^  Oar  Sfiiut  had  a  remarkable  saying  on  this  sul 
iect :  *  W«  must  live  in  this  world  as  if  our  spirits  were 
m  beareo,  and  our  bodies  in  the  tomb.  We  must  IIto, 
he  said,  'a  dyin?  death,  and  die  a  living  and  hfe-giving 
death,  in  the  life  of  our  king,  our  flower,  our  sweetest 
Saviour.  To  live  a  dying  death,  is  to  live,  not  accord- 
ing to  the  sen  ^es  and  natural  inclinations,  but  according 
to  the  spirit  a^id  th  supernatural  .nclinations.  It  is  a 
death  according  to  nature,  but  a  lite  according  to  the 
spirit.  It  is  to  c&use  the  old  man  to  die  in  us,  that  tna 
new  man  may  arise  firom  his  ashes.  And  to  die  a  livmg 
and  life-ffiving  death  is,  to  mortify  and  oruoif|r  the  fleah, 
with  Hi  deiues;  to  cause  thf  spirit  to  Vlj^  of  the  Uit  of 


ifi ';'! 


M,S 


/*$! 


'i- . 


'ri 


if 'is  wyp  w  5  '  i  'I 


"  li! 


death 


•T.  FRAHOIl  »■  fALM. 

I,  wHoli  has  been  merited  for  us  bj  the  life  and 
leath  of  Jesws  Christ,  who  knows  how  to  extract  life 
firom  death,  as  Samson  drew  the  honeycomb  and  the 
meat  from  the  jaw  of  the  deyouring  lion.  And  as- 
ioredlj,  unless  we  die  with  Jesus  GImst,  we  shall  not 
liye  with  Him ;  and  if  we  do  not  suffer  with  Him,  we 
shall  not  reign  with  Him.* 

"  He  was  so  adroit  during  his  lifetime  in  his  use 
and  concealment  of  instruments  of  penance,  that  the 
servant  who  waited  on  him  at  rising  and  goinr  to  bed 
never  perceived  them;  and  death  alone  revoued  this 
secret,  and  manifested  what  he  had  always  so  carefiilly 
hidden.  One  instance  may  suffice.  His  servant  found 
«  little  water  left  in  a  basin  of  a  reddish  hue,  as  if  tinged 
Mth  blood ;  not  being  able  to  guess  the  cause — for  it 
was  some  water  he  had  brought  the  Saint  to  wash  his 
hands — ^lie  observed  him  so  closely,  that  he  afoertained 
^t  he  washed  his  discipline,  which  was  tinged  with 
blood,  in  this  basin,  and  tnen  having  thrown  away  the 
water,  a  little  remained  at  the  bottom,  which  had  gjven 
fse  to  the  suspicion. 

'^  He  often  repeated  this  Oospel  maium.  Eat  tuck 
%ing9  08  are  set  lefore  yoUy*  inferring  tiiat  it  was  a 
^jfreater  mortification  to  be  ready  to  accommodate  one's 
taste  to  every  thing,  than  always  to  choose  the  worst. 
The  choicest  dishes  are  often,  for  all  that,  not  the  most 
to  our  taste;  and  to  receive  them,  therefore,  without 
testifying  any  aversion,  is  no  small  mortification.  It 
mconvemences  him  alone  who  thus  puts  a  constraint 
apon  himself.  He  considered  that  there  was  a  want  of 
politeness,  when  at  table,  in  taking  or  asking  for  some 
dish  not  near  you,  declining  what  is  in  your  immediatf 
neighbourhooa.  This,  he  said,  was  to  betray  a  mind 
attentive  to  dishes  and  sauces.  But  if  this  be  don0| 
Aoc  from  sensuality,  but  in  order  to  choose  the  com* 
monest  food,  there  is  in  this  proceeding  a  spioe  of  al^ 
iMwdouy  which  is  as  inseparable  from  oitentstioB  at 


e  and 
Bt  life 
id  the 
id  as- 
ainot 
m,  we 

08  use 
at  the 
to  bed 
)d  this 
refiilly 
;  found 
tinged 
—for  it 
ash  his 
rtained 
\d  with 
ray  the 
i  given 

it  tueh 
;  was  a 
B  one's 
I  worst, 
le  most 
ivithout 
on.    It 
istraint 
Mrant  of 
)r  some 
nediatf 
a  mind 
B  done^ 
e  com- 
Bofai^ 


■T.  FRANOIB  DB  lALBl. 


999 


■moke  18  from  fire.  As  it  is  quite  possible  to  be  glut* 
tonous  on  a  cabbage,  so  also  may  we  be  temperate  upon 
partridges ;  but  to  be  indifferent  to  both  is  to  exhibit  a 
mortification  of  the  taste  which  is  by  no  means  com- 
mon. It  is  a  more  difficult  act  to  eat  of  dainty  food 
without  relishing  it,  than  to  restrict  ourselves  to  coarse 
fiire  of  which  we  partaks  with  satisfaction. 

'^  One  day  he  nad  been  dining  on  eggs  poached  in 
water ;  and  when  he  had  finished  them,  he  DCffan  dip- 
ping his  bread  in  the  water,  as  he  had  done  in  the  eggs. 
Those  who  were  at  table  with  him  smiled  at  observinff 
this  inadvertence,  and  having  asked  the  cause,  fie  saic^ 
*  You  certainly  were  very  wrong  to  undeceive  me  of  so 
agreeable  an  illusion;  ror  I  assure  you  I  never  ate  a 
sauce  with  greater  relish.  My  good  appetite,  perhaps, 
had  not  a  little  share  in  it ;  so  true  is  tne  proverb,  that 
hunger  is  the  best  sauce.'  This  little  incident  reminds 
IS  of  St.  Bernard,  who  drank  some  oil  believing  it  to 
)e  wine,  so  little  attention  did  he  pay  to  what  he  was 
eating  or  drinking. 

''  One  day,  when  I  had  helped  him  to  rather  a  deli- 
cate morsel,  and  observed  that  he  had  quietly  pushed 
It  into  a  comer  of  his  plate,  and  was  eating  something 
common, '  I  have  cauglit  you  out,'  I  exclaimed : '  what 
becomes  of  the  evangelical  precept.  Eat  such  things  as 
are  set  before  you  T  He  replied  very  sweetly,  *  You 
don't  know,  perliaps,  that  I  have  a  very  rustic  stomach, 
like  a  peasant's ;  if  I  do  not  eat  something  solid  and 
coarse,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  taken  no  nourishment ;  these 
delicacies  seem  like  nothing  at  all,  and  do  not  support 
My  father,*  I  replied  *  this  is  one  of  your  tricks; 


me. 


these  are  the  veils  which  you  throw  over  your  austeri- 
ties.' '  I  am  really  using  no  disguise,'  ne  rejoined ; 
'  I  speak  with  all  jfrankness  and  sincerity.  However, 
to  tell  you  my  fiill  mind  without  reserve  or  conceal- 
ment, I  do  not  deny  that  delicate  meats  are  more  pleas- 
ing to  my  taste  than  coarser  food.  I  do  not  wish  for 
high  saltmg,  spicing,  and  flavouring,  to  make  the  wixn 
%8ta  better;  we  Ssvoytids  idish  it  sniEoiaitly  withoai 


m 


w 


;''!;■ 


I  '. 


'     <", 


;!     '■  i ' 


i 


h 


'•M"  1 


'!f 


ti 


iM 


\  I 


f    I  \ 


I ' 


$a9 


•T.  F1UV0I8  DB  SALBt. 


that ;  but  as  we  sit  down  to  table  rather  to  sustain  our 
bodies  than  to  gratify  our  sensuality,  I  take  what  I 
know  nourishes  me  most  and  suits  me  best ;  for  you 
know  we  must  eat  to  live,  not  live  to  eat,  that  is,  to  be 
an  epicure  about  choice  bits,  and  to  give  our  attention 
to  dishes,  and  the  variety  of  food  before  us.  However, 
to  do  honour  to  your  g^d  cheer,  if  you  will  wait  pa- 
tiently, I  will  satisfy  you ;  for  after  laying  the  founda- 
tion of  the  repast  by  these  more  solid  and  nutritious 
viands,  I  will  roof  it  in  with  the  slates  of  the  mom  deli- 
cate morsels  which  you  please  to  give  me/  How  many 
virtues  go  to  form  this  apparently  trivial  action !  Sin* 
ceiity,  truth,  candour,  simplicity,  temperance,  sobriety^ 
condescendence,  benevolence,  prudence,  equanimi^. 
Gracious  souls,  whose  actions  are  all  performed  by  t£e 
movements  of  grace,  produce  nothing  trifling;  fin*  the 
works  of  God  are  perfect,  especially  the  worloi  of  Hia 
grace,  and  so  they  nave  glory  for  their  crown.  Wht 
ther  you  eat  or  arinkf  or  whatsoever  else  you  dOf  nyi 
the  Apostle,  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God.* 

**  Our  Saint  set  a  great  value  on  a  common  mode 
of  life ;  for  th^jB  reason,  he  would  not  have  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  Visitation,  which  he  founded,  practise  any 
extraordinary  austerities  in  dress,  sleeping,  or  food ;  the 
rules  he  laid  down  for  their  food,  lasts,  and  clothing 
being  similar  to  those  observed  by  such  as  would  live  a 
Christian  life  in  the  world.     In  which  respect  these 

good  daughters  are  imitators  of  Jesus  Christ,  of  Hii 
oly  Mother,  and  of  the  Apostles,  who  followed  this 
mode  of  life,  leaving  it  to  the  judgment  and  discretimi 
of  superiors  to  permit  or  prescribe  extraordinary  mor- 
tifications, according  to  the  needs  of  individuals  who 
may  require  this  treatment.  Not  but  that  our  Saint 
valued  bodily  austerities;  but  he  wished  them  to  bo 
made  use  of  with  a  zeal  accompanied  by  knowledce^ 
thus  preserving  the  purity  of  the  body  without  ininmg 
the  health.    £i  a  word,  he  preferred  the  lift  of  Jaw 

•I0or.x.» 


\ 


•T.  FRAHOII  OB  SALBft.  2S1 

Christ  to  that  ot'  John  the  Baptist. '  To  know  Turn  t9 
abound,  and  how  to  mffer  want,  acoordinff  to  the  say* 
in^  of  St.  Paul,  was  a  favourite  toxt  mm  him.  He 
said  that  it  was  more  difficult  to  know  how  to  ahound 
than  how  to  suffer  want.  A  thousand  fall  at  the  left 
hand  of  adversity,  but  ten  thousand  at  the  rif^ht  of 
prosperity;  so  hard  is  it  to  keep  a  straight  course  when 
we  want  for  nothing ;  which  made  Solomon  say,  Give 
ms  neither  beggary  nor  riches;  give  me  only  the  necet^ 
taries  of  life.*  He  who  can  kiss  with  an  equable  mind 
each  hand  of  God,  has  attained  a  high  point  of  Chris- 
tian perfection,  and  shall  find  salvation  in  the  Lord. 

"He  never  took  recreation  for  his  own  pleasure,  but 
only  fi'om  a  spirit  of  condescension.  He  had  no  gardei 
attached  to  the  two  Iiouses  which  he  occupied  during 
nis  episcopacy ;  and  he  never  took  a  walk  except  when 
company  necessitated  his  doing  so,  or  the  doctor  had 
oi-dered  it  for  his  health ;  for  he  was  very  punctual  in 
his  obedience  to  such  directions.  Herein  nis  praotioe 
resembled  the  austerity  of  St.  Charles  Borromeo,  who 
could  not  endure  that,  after  meals,  the  company  h« 
received  should  amuse  themselves  by  spending  their 
time  in  useless  conversations,  saying  that  it  was  un- 
worthy of  a  pastor  charged  with  so  um^  and  weighty 
a  diocese,  and  who  had  so  many  better  occupations. 
This  was  natural  in  a  saint  whose  life  was  an  especial 
pattern  of  severity ;  so  that  no  one  thought  it  Strang* 
wlien  he  broke  off  the  conversation  on  such  occasioniu 
to  seek  elsewhere  wherewithal  to  emnloy  that  great  zeal 
for  souls  and  for  the  house  of  Goa  which  consumed 
him.  Our  Saint  was  of  a  more  indulgent  spirit,  and 
did  not  withdraw  from  conversation  afker  meals.  When 
I  was  on  a  visit  to  him,  he  used  to  seek  to  recreate  me 
after  the  labour  of  preaching.  He  would  take  me  ou ' 
in  a  boat  on  that  beautiful  lake  which  bathes  the  wallf 
of  Anneoy,  or  to  walk  in  some  pleasant  gardeni  on  iti 
&ir  banka.   When  he  oame  to  see  ir«  at  flcUej,  lie  dU 


*  XlWV.  SBL& 


S83 


•T.  V&AH0I8  Bl  i^LBl. 


/;,•■> 


I'iite 


wm 


.(■  -:  H 


SI  'i 


R'M: 


^'ri^f 


'!>:?; 


S     / 


\h  i 


m 


f'' 


1'  nm 


,  I 


I-  f 


not  decline  similar'  reoreaticns,  in  wbioh  I  invited  him 
to  iudnlffe;  but  he  never  proposed  them,  or  Bougkc 
them  of  ms  own  accord.  Agam,  when  persons  spoke 
to  him  of  buildings,  paintings,  music,  hunting,  birds, 
plants,  gardening,  flowers,  he  did  not  blame  those  who 
took  an  terest  in  these  things,  but  he  would  have 
desired  mat  thej  should  make  use  of  these  occupations 
as  so  many  means  to  raii^e  themselves  to  God ;  and  he 
himself  set  the  example,  by  drawing  from  all  these 
subjects  motives  for  heavenly  aspirations.  If  beautiful 
plants  were  pointed  out  to  him,  'We  are/  he  would 
observe,  'the  field  which  God  cultivates.'  If  some 
magnificent  and  splendidly-adorned  church,  'We  are 
the  temples,'  he  would  say, '  of  the  living  God.  0  that 
our  souls  were  as  richly  adorned  with  virtues!'  If 
flowers,  'When  shall  our  flowers  yield  fruit?'  If  rare 
and  exQuisite  paintings,  'There  is  nothing  so  fair  as  the 
soul,  wmch  is  made  to  the  image  of  God.'  If  taken 
into  a  garden,  he  would  exclaim,  'Owhen  shall  the 
warden  of  our  soul  be  sown  with  flowera,  and  filled  with 
ruit,  weeded,  dressed,  and  trimmed?  Wlien  shall  it 
be  fenced  in,  and  closed  against  everv  thing  which  is 
displeasing  to  the  heavenly  Gkurdener  ?  On  beholding 
fountains,  'When  shall  we  possess  within  our  hearts 
the  source  of  living  water,  springing  up  to  life  ever- 
lasting ?  How  long  shall  we  forsake  the  source  of  life, 
to  diff  for  ourselves  leaking  cisterns  ?  0,  when  shall 
we  draw  to  our  content  nrom  the  Savionr^s  foun- 
tains ?' " 

M.  de  Belley  gives  other  similar  instances,  and 
concludes  with  these  words :  "  Thus  he  beheld  Qod  in 
all  things,  and  all  thin^  in  God ;  or  rather,  he  beheld 
but  one  thing — GodI  omy. 

"  Our  Samt  used  to  say  that  by  interior  recollection 
we  retired  into  God,  or  drew  God  within  ourselves. 
'  But  when  and  where  can  we  have  recourse  to  it  ?  At 
all  times  and  in  all  places.  Neither  repast,  nor  company, 
nor  change,  nor  occupation,  csn  hinder  it<,  as  neither  doM 
a  Mndn  or  interfere  with  any  action;  on  the  oontrniy. 


I 

1 


IT.  FKANOIf  DB  tALM • 


S88 


" 


u 


k  is  a  salt  wliioh  seasons  ewerj  kind  of  meat,  or  rather 
a  sugar  which  spoils  no  sance.  It  consists  only  in  in- 
terior looks  between  the  soul  and  Qod, — of  our  souls 
towards  God  and  of  God  upon  our  souls ;  and  the  simpler 
this  recollection  is,  the  better.  As  for  aspirations,  tney 
are  short  but  ardent  bounds  towards  GUxl ;  and  the  more 
▼eLement  and  loving  an  aspiration  is.  the  better  it  is. 
AU  these  bounds  or  aspirations  are  so  much  the  better, 
as  they  are  shorter.  That  of  St.  Bruno  seems  to  me 
very  excellent  for  its  brevity :  *  0  ffoodness !' — as  also 
that  of  St.  Francis :  *  My  God,  my  ful  !* — of  St.  Aujrus- 
tine :  '  To  love !  to  die  to  self!  to  attain  to  Grod !'  Iliese 
two  exercises  are  mutually  connected,  and  succeed  each 
other,  as  do  the  acts  of  inhaling  and  exhaling.  For 
even  as  when  we  inhale  we  draw  3ie  fresh  air  from  with- 
dut  into  our  lungs,  and  in  exhaling  we  breathe  forth 
warm  air,  so  inhaling  by  recollection  we  draw  God 
Irithin  us,  and  by  aspiration  we  cast  ourselves  into  the 
Arms  of  His  goodness.  Happy  the  soul  which  thus 
inhales  and  exhales ;  for  by  tnis  means  it  dwells  in  Qod 
and  God  in  it. 

''There  are  persons  who  become  discouraged  in 
prayer,  and  are  even  led  to  discontinue  it,  not  on  ac- 
count of  the  difficulties  they  meet  with,  but  because,  as 
they  say,  they  are  unfaithml  to  the  resolutions  formed 
at  that  time,  and  dread  incunin^  more  guilt  than  if 
they  formed  none  at  all.  Our  Saint  looked  upon  this 
as  a  very  dangerous  stratagem  of  the  enemy.  *  Men 
wait,'  he  said,  '  a  whole  year  to  reap  an  ear  of  com 
from  a  grain  they  have  cast  into  the  earth ;  and  many 
years  to  eat  apples  from  a  pip  they  haye  sown.  We 
must  never  leave  the  exercise  of  prayer  except  to  attend 
t^  more  important  work ;  and  even  then  we  must  repair 
the  loss  by  fre(j[uent  aspirations.  And  we  must  never 
give  over  making  resolutions  during  this  exercise,  for 
they  are  the  special  fruit  of  prayer;  and  although  we 
may  not  at  once  put  them  in  execution,  and  may  giye 
in  and  draw  back  on  the  fust  oooasion%  oererthMeM 
fhate  leede  do  not  fiul  to  teke  root  in  o«r  heitrti^  mm 


i 


'il--''^ 


r.i 


UJi', 


i    I^^U, 


vi  mm 


>mh  'I 


ill  in 


Mm 


■    1. 

i       i 


384 


•T.  FRAllOIf  OB  MALWa. 


to  bear  firait  at  another  seasoii,  eyen  when  we  liafe  at 
recollection  of  haying  made  them.  And  mipposing  we 
accomplished  nothing  further  by  these  resolutionB  than 
exercising  ourselyes  in  spiritual  course,  these  acts  of 
goodwill  would  still  be  pleasing  to  uod,  who  under' 
stands  our  '  nights  ifar  off,  and  who  searches  out  owr 
path  and  o  lv»£j*  Supposing  we  did  no  more  than 
the  pupik  who  take  lessons  in  a  reading  or  fencing* 
school,  it  would  still  be  something ;  and  euoh  an  one,  as 
the  old  saying  has  it,  will  run  away  to-day^  who  will 
fight  yaliantly  at  some  future  time.  We  most  neyer, 
then,  lose  heart,  but  say  with  the  prophet,  In  the  Lord 
I  put  my  trust :  how  then  do  you  say  to  my  soul.  Get 
tMse  anayfrom  hence  to  the  mountain  like  a  marrow  ft 
Why  art  thou  cast  downy  0  my  soul,  ana  why  dost 
thou  disquiet  me  ?  Hope  thou  in  Ood.X  Yes,  we  will 
indeed  still  give  praise  to  Himj  and  senre  Hun  Mmc 
day,  for  He  is  my  salyation,  my  strength,  and  my  true 
God/ 

*'  I  asked  onr  Saint  one  day  if  it  was  not  better  te 
choose  one  single  point  for  the  subject  of  our  prayei} 
and  to  draw  from  it  one  affection  only  and  one  resolu- 
tion. He  replied,  that  unity  and  simplicity  in  all  things, 
but  more  particularly  in  spiritual  exercises,  was  always 
preferable  to  multiplicity ;  that  it  was  only  beginners 
who  were  adyised  to  take  several  for  the  subject  of  their 
meditation.  With  resai'd  to  the  multiplicity  of  affec- 
tions and  resolutions,  he  said  that  when  spring  was  pro- 
digal of  flowers,  then  it  was  that  the  bees  made  loss 
honey,  inasmuch  as,  taking  pleasure  in  hovering  about 
over  this  abundance,  they  did  not  allow  themselves  time 
to  extract  the  juice  and  essence  of  which  their  honey- 
comb is  formed.  Drones,  he  added,  make  a  great  deal 
of  noise  and  very  little  profit.  When  asked  whether 
it  was  not  better  to  retiim  frequently  to  the  same  affe<y 
tion  and  resolution,  the  better  to  imprint  them  on  the 
foul,  he  said  that  we  ought  to  imitate  painters  arH 
wolpton,  who  •ooomplish  their  work  by  means  of  f** 

•  Pk  tszxTiiL  a.  tFfe.s.L  t^lkslLia. 


•T.  VIUNOIS  DB  SlLBt. 


saa 


as 


pro- 

I  1081 


\\ 


iient«d  strokes  of  the  pencil  and  the  chisel ;  and  that 
to  make  a  deep  impression  on  our  hearts  it  was  neces- 
sary often  to  repeat  the  same  thing.  He  added,  that 
as  m  swimming  those  who  throw  their  arms  and  legs 
rapidly  about  sink,  whereas  they  ought  to  move  them 
vently  and  leisurely,  so  also  those  who  are  too  eager 
m  prayer  consume  themselves  in  vain  reflections,  and 
their  dissipated  thoughts  toiment  their  hearts.* 

"  In  reply  to  the  question,  how  we  are  to  understand 
the  saying,  attributed  by  our  Saint  to  the  great  St. 
Anthony,  that  he  v»  ho  is  engaged  in  prayer  ought  to 
have  his  attention  so  completely  occupied  with  Ood 
that  he  ou^ht  even  to  forget  he  is  praying,  inasmuch 
as  this  reflection  upon  his  act  implies  attention,  and  if 
not  in  itself  a  distraction,  is  at  least  an  occasion  of  dis- 
traction, by  opening  the  door  to  it,  I  reply  by  our  Saint's 
doctrine  on  this  subject,  that  we  must  keep  our  soul 
steadily  fixed  in  prayer,  ^'thout  allowing  it  to  cast  off 
upon  itself  to  observe  whb„  it  is  about,  or  if  it  is  pray- 
ing to  its  own  satisfaction.  Alas !  our  satisfactions  and 
consolations  do  not  satisfy  the  eyes  of  God,  but  only  that 
miserable  love  and  care  which  we  bestow  auon  ourselves, 
in  which  God  and  consideration  for  Him  nave  no  part. 
Children  certainly,  whom  our  Lord  points  out  to  us  as  the 
models  of  our  perfection,  have,  generally  speaking,  none 
of  this  solicituae,  particularly  in  their  parents'  company ; 
they  cling  to  them,  without  turning  round  to  contem- 
plate their  own  satisfactions  or  cc  r.solations,  which  they 
enjoy,  it  is  true,  but  in  all  simplicity,  and  without  cu- 
riously considering  their  causes  and  effects ;  love  being 
sufficient  occupation  to  them,  and  allowing  them  to  do 
nothing  else.    He  who  is  very  attentive  lovingly  to 

1>lea8e  the  heavenly  Lover,  has  neither  the  heart  nor  the 
eisure  to  contempkte  himself,  his  mind  continually  tun- 
ing in  the  direction  in  which  love  impels  him.  He  did  not 
approve  of  minds  which  were  given  to  too  much  reflec- 
tion, making  a  hundred  considerations  upon  trifling  mat- 
6en.    They  resemble,  he  said,  silkworms,  wl^ch  im* 

•JckxviLll. 


M 


M 

III  ■      ■» 


,  I 


(I 


"•iH! 


'■■1  '   hh''      i 


tiS^^ 


I ;  I 


1  >'<■ 


I-  ' 


I  'i  f,  i 


Mhl' 


■f  ■  ) 


% 


i  I! 


m\' 


•T.  FBANOIt  DB  tALBl. 

prison  and  entangle  themselTfls  in  their  own  work.  Himi 
perpetual  reflections  upon  self  and  our  own  actions  take 
up  a  great  deal  of  time,  which  might  he  more  profitahly 
employed  than  ir  lookmg  so  constantly  at  what  we  are 
ahout  By  dint  of  looldng  to  see  if  we  are  doing  things 
well,  we  do  them  iU.  Each  occupation  has  its  appro- 
priate time;  there  is  a  time  for  action^  and  a  tune  for 
reflecting  on  our  actions.  The  painter  does  not  stop  at 
every  stroke  of  his  brush  to  judge  of  his  work,  but  only 
at  intervals. 

«  Our  Saint  was  so  great  a  friend  to  unity,  that  all 
multiplicity  was,  if  not  disaffreeaUe  to  him,  at  any  rate 
suspicious.  He  approved  mghly  of  the  advice  attri- 
buted to  St.  Thomas,  to  make  some  one  book  our  spe- 
cial study,  if  we  would  study  to  advantage.  Accord- 
ingly, he  applaudisd  those  who  for  their  spiritual  guid- 
ance attached  themselves  to  some  one  book  of  devotioi^ 
such  as  Hie  Spiritual  Oonibat,  his  own  &vourite  book; 
J%e  Method  of  Servitw  Oodf  which  with  his  sanction 
I*chose  for  myself;  !^  Follomng  of  Jems  Chriii, 
Louis  of  Grenada's  Ouide,  or  his  Memorial,  and  suohf 
like ;  not  that  he  would  set  aside  oliiers,  but  he  wished 
them  to  come  in  as  accessories,  and  as  it  were  com- 
mentaries on  the  cldef  book.  He  was  of  the  same  opinion 
with  respect  to  spiritual  exercises.  He  wished  penoos 
to  choose  one  of  these  exercises  for  more  frequent  nrao- 
tice ;  either  the  pnHsence  of  Qod,  which  he  spedalfy  ra- 
commended ;  or  purity  of  intention,  which  he  much 
approved ;  or  subxaission  to  the  will  of  God,  which  he 
highly  esteemed ;  or  self-abandonment  into  God's  handa, 
and  self-renuDciati3n,  which  he  valued  much,  as  in- 
cluding generally  ell  Christian  perfection.  In  like  man- 
ner he  would  hav3  us  choose  some  particular  virtue^ 
as  humility,  gentle  aess.  patience,  moitifioation,  prayer^ 
mercy,  and  such-lilce,  for  special  practice :  just  as  reli- 
gious institutes,  which  cultivate  some  nistingnishing 
virtue,  which  constitutes  their  spirit,  without  neglectin|r 
the  others.  Upon  this  principle  he  did  not  augur  weu 
of  those  persons  whom  he  saw  fluttermg  from  one 


IT.  FRANOM  »■  lALBA 

mu  to  aoother,  from  one  book  to  another,  from  one  nrac- 
tice  to  another ;  oompflring  them  to  drones,  who  al^lit 
on  evrry  flower  without  extracting  honey  from  any; 
ever  learning,  without  ever  attaining  to  the  true  soienoc 
of  saints ;  always  gathering,  collecting,  and  heaping  up^ 
without  becoming  rich,  because  they  put  every  uiin^ 
iato  a  bag  with  a  hole  in  it,  and  dig  cisterns  for  them* 
■elves  wmch  will  not  hold  water;  restless  spirits,  who, 
■eeking  peace  in  spiritual  riches,  find  it  not, — ^like  per- 
■ons  smitten  with  the  malady  of  jealousy,  to  wnon 
every  thing  furnishes  materials  for  its  maintenance,  and 
nothing  gives  relief.  With  referance  to  t1:<-<  subject  of 
multiplicity,  he  told  me  he  preferred  one  pjaoulatory 
prayer  or  aspiration  repeated  a  hundred  times  to  a  hun- 
dred ejaculations  each  said  once,  alleging  the  example 
of  the  saints ;  as  St.  Francis,  who  sometimes  passed 
whole  days  and  weeks  in  repeating  *  My  God  is  my  All  / 
and  St.  Bruno,  '0  Goodness!'  and  St.  Teresa,  'AB 
that  is  not  God  is  nothing.'  And  he  added,  that  th^ 
longer  a  bee  tairies  on  a  flower,  the  more  honey  it  eA 
tracts." 

With  regard  to  dryness  and  aridity  in  prayer,  the 
Saint's  opinions  are  recorded  several  times  by  M.  de 
Belley :  " '  We  always  love,'  he  said,  *  the  sweetness 
and  delightful  suavity  of  consolations ;  neverthel'^ss,  the 
rigour  of  aridities  is  more  rich  in  fruit ;  and  though  St. 
Peter  loved  the  mountain  of  Thabor,  and  fled  from  that 
of  Calvary,  the  latter  nevertheless  is  the  most  profitable, 
and  the  blood  shed  upon  the  one  is  more  desirable  tlum 
the  brightness  which  environs  the  other.  It  is  better 
to  eat  bread  without  sugar,  than  su^  without  bread. 
Blessed  is  that  soul  which  remains  faithful  in  the  midst 
of  drynesses  and  deprivation  of  all  sensible  consolations. 
They  form  the  crucible  in  which  the  pure  gold  of  charity 
is  perfectly  refined.  Happy  he  who  bears  this  trial 
witn  patience ;  for  having  oeen  tried  and  purified  io 
this  manner,  he  shall  receive  the  c^  own  whicn  God  has 
nroQiised  to  those  whom  He  loves  and  who  love  Hhn. 
When  God,'  he  said,  *  depriTes  xm  sometimeB  of  thos* 


236 


hi . 


•T.  nUNOIt  DB  lAUi. 


omw)latieiu,  and  of  the  leiue  of  W»  prutaoa^  it  ii  u 
order  that  our  heart  shoiild  oleare  to  nothing  eenaiblei 
bat  to  Him  only  and  His  rood  pleamre ;  as  He  dealt 
frith  her  who  desired  to  embrace  and  olincr  to  His  feet, 
sending  her  elsewhere  with  these  words,  Ihueh  me  not ; 
hut  go  tell  my  hrethrenj  &o.  Jacob  certainl^f  was  able 
:o  take  oft'  the  skin  with  which  his  mother  had  covered 
his  neck  and  hands,  because  it  did  not  adhere  to  him ;  bat 
if  any  one  had  endeavoured  to  tear  off  Esau's,  it  would 
have  been  very  painful,  and  would  have  made  him  cry 
nut.  So  also  when  we  cry  out  upon  God's  withdrawing 
sensible  consolations,  it  is  a  sign  that  they  clave  to  oar 
heart,  or  that  our  heart  was  attached  to  them ;  but  when 
we  bear  this  privation  without  complaining,  it  is  a  very 
evident  mark  that  God  alone  is  the  oortion  of  our  hearti 
and  that  the  creature  does  not  ^lare  it  with  Him. 
Blessed  is  the  soul  of  which  QoA  only  ia  the  lord 
the  possessor." 


.  > » 


■  :i 


i,-'i 


I    'f! 


nu  BAxar's  lovb  ov  his  ■rbmibii.— PAnrnai  ii» 

**  A  friend  of  his  having  confessed  to  hmi  that  ha 
found  no  duty  of  Christianity  so  difficult  to  practisd 
as  that  of  the  love  of  enemies, '  As  for  me,'  he  said,  *  1 
don't  know  how  my  heart  is  constituted,  or  if  it  has 
pleased  God  to  make  me  an  altogether  new  one,  bat  I 
not  only  experience  no  difficulty  in  compljring  with  thia 
command,  out  I  have  such  a  pleasure  m  it,  and  feel  so 
delightful  and  peculiar  a  sw\3etness  in  it,  that  if  God 
had  forbidden  me  to  love  them,  I  should  find  it  Teiy 
uard  to  obey  Him/ 

*^  Having  received  a  notable  insult  from  in  in- 
dividual, aua  having  endeavoured  to  appease  him  by 
urging  several  good  reasons  with  incomparable  twee6- 
uess,  he  concluded  bv  8a3rii'g,  *  After  all,  I  would  lutve 
voa  to  know,  that  it  ^ou  had  put  out  one  of  my  eyes, 
J  would  look  at  you  with  the  other  as  affectionately  ai 
if  y<m  were  the  best  friend  I  possessed.'   'ShikUwaiioft 


m  \ 


it  if  IB 

MDliblft, 

Ifl  dealt 
flisfeet, 
me  not; 
nras  able 
covered 
dm;  but 
it  would 
him  oiy 
[drawings 
re  to  our 
rat  when 
is  averj 
ur  hearty 
ih  Him. 
lord 


hlllllBMl 

that  he 
praotiM 
iSaid,<l 
if  it  has 
le,  but  I 
pdththib 
dfeelfo 
t  if  God 
it  itsey 

an  in- 

hiiw  by 

e  Bwee^ 
iild  haye 
nyeyety 
lateljaa 
Iwaihot 


•T.  FmANcn  &■  lALia. 


880 


bear/  he  would  say,  'with  those  whom  Grod  Himsel 
bean,  having  before  our  ejes  that  n*eat  example,  Jesu 
Christ,  praymg  on  the  cross  for  His  enemies?    Whc 
would  not  love  him.  this  dear  enemy  for  whom  Jesua 
Christ  prayed,  and  lor  whom  He  died  1' 

**  People  would  occasionally  come  and  tell  him  tha 
he  was  evil  spoken  of  by  some  persons  who  asseited 
strange  things  of  him.  Instead  of  excusing  and  de* 
fending  himself,  he  would  reply  with  sweetness,  *  h 
that  all  they  say?  0  really,  they  don't  know  all. 
Iliej  flatter  me,  they  spare  me,  I  see  they  have  more 
pity  for  me  than  enyy,  and  wish  me  to  be  better  than 
I  am.  Well,  God  be  praised !  I  must  correct  myself; 
if  I  do  not  deserve  blame  in  this  matter,  I  deserve  it  in 
some  other ;  it  is  any  how  treating  cie  with  mercy  to 
be  so  lenient  of  censure.'    If  some  one  undertook  his 

{'ustification,  and  said  the  accusation  was  false, '  Well,' 
le  would  reply, '  it  is  a  warning  to  me  to  take  care  not 
to  make  it  true.  Is  it  not  a  tavour  to  caution  me  to 
turn  aside  from  this  pitfall  ?  But  who  has  ever  told 
us  that  we  were  irreprehensible  ?  Perhaps  they  discern 
my  faults  better  than  I  do  myself,  or  tiiose  who  love 
me.  We  often  call  truths  evil-speaking  when  they  are 
distasteful  to  us.  What  harm  do  people  do  us  by 
having  an  ill  opinion  of  us  ?  Ought  we  not  to  think  ill 
of  oui'selves  ?  Such  persons  are  not  our  adversariev 
but  our  partisans,  for  they  join  with  us  to  work  tb  i 
destructiou  of  our  self-love.  Why  be  angry  with  thofte 
who  come  to  our  aid  against  so  powerful  an  enemy  V 
It  was  thus  he  made  light  of  calumnies  and  insmts, 
considering  that  silence  and  modesty  were  qmte  suffi- 
cient defence,  without  calling  patience  to  our  support 
against  such  a  trifle. 

''  Among  the  virtues,  he  highly  esteemed  that  which 
makes  us  bear  with  sweetness  the  imporamity  cf  our 
aeighbour.  *  A  little  gentleness,  moderation,  and  mo- 
desty,' he  said,  *  are  simicient  for  this  purpose.  People 
talk  as  if  patience  was  to  be  exercised  oxuy  in  beanng 
toM  afflictions  which  reflect  oredli^  on  ii«     However 


<Lt::^'W1^'^ 


h  ! 


•!  I 


^M^frs' 


mm 


:! 


240  IT.  FBANOIS  »■  lALMb 

while  awaiting  these  great  and  signal  occaaionfy  wWa 
ooiB*  but  seldom  during  our  life,  we  neglect  the  leawr; 
and  so  far  from  making  any  account  of  beanng  with 
our  neighbour's  importunity,  we,  on  the  contrary,  ridcos 
those  persons  as  weak  who  put  up  with  them.  We 
imagine  that  our  patience  is  equal  to  the  enduranoe  of 
great  su£ferings  and  signal  insults,  and  we  give  way  to 
impatience  at  the  mot )  trifling  annoyance.  It  seems 
to  us  as  if  we  could  ase  st,  serve,  and  relieve  our  neigh- 
bour in  great  and  pro  onged  illness, — and  we  eannot 
bear  with  his  tiresome  immours,  his  want  of  polish,  hii 
incivility,  but  above  all  with  his  importunities,  when  he 
*  comes  unreasonably  and  unseasonably  to  take  «p  our 
time  with  what  appear  to  us  trifling  and  fri  rolons  mat- 
ters. To  excuse  our  imp'-'ieLee  we  t*'im  phantly  allege 
the  value  of  time,  of  whioii  an  ancient  winter  hae  said 
that  it  is  praiseworthy  to  be  avaricious ;  and  we  fiful  to 
observe  that  we  ourselves  consume  it  in  so  many  vainer 
ways  than  in  bearing  with  our  neighbour,  and  possitdy 
in  things  which  are  m  themselves  less  important  than 
those  he  would  occupy  us  with,  and  which  we  call  loei 
of  time.  When  conversing  with  our  neighbour,  we 
ouffht  to  take  pleasure  in  it,  and  show  that  we  do  so; 
and  when  we  are  alone  we  must  take  pleasure  in  soli- 
tude. But  the  misfortune  is,  that  our  minds  are  so 
restless,  that  we  are  always  looking  behind  us ;  in  com- 
pany longing  for  solitude,  and  in  solitude,  instead  of  en- 
joying its  sweetness,  desuring  conversation.  We  ought 
to  have  a  more  even  and  reasonable  temper  of  mind, 
and  in  the  time  allotted  to  recreation  love  recreation ; 
and  in  like  manner  love  reading,  prayer,  and  work  at 
the  tunes  appropriated  to  them,  as  weu  as  silence  whm 
commandea  by  the  rule  and  by  obedience.  Thus  we 
may  say  with  the  prophet,  Innll  bless  the  Lord  at  aU 
tmeSt  j3Rs  praise  shall  he  ever  m  mv  mouthy  for  it 
js  to  bless  and  praise  the  Lord  at  all  times,  to  refer 
to  His  glory  all  our  actions,  whether  good  or  iadif* 
farent."' 

Wo  have  already  seen  St.  iVandf  «ihibitiiig  thii 


•T.  FRANCIS  DB  8ALBI. 


341 


W« 


118  W6 

ataU 

for  it 

rafer 

uubf* 

thii 


rHne  ji  a  fltriking  maimer  in  bia  own  nraotioe.    Haft 
ia  a  fvrther  instance  recorded  by  M.  de  Bellej : 

"  During^  the  last  visit  he  made  to  Parif,  whara  he 
remained  about  eight  months,  he  was  in  such  request 
on  all  sides,  that  he  had  to  preach  almost  ereir  aay ; 
this  brought  on  an  illness,  which,  though  or  short 
duration,  was  very  dangerous.  Some  of  hia  friends^ 
anxious  for  his  health,  warned  him  that  he  was  undei^ 
taking  too  much  for  his  strength ;  to  which  he  made 
answer,  that  they  whose  office  constituted  them  the 
lights  of  the  world,  ought,  like  torches,  to  consume 
themselves  in  order  to  illuminate  others.  Bot^  not 
satisfied  with  this,  they  added,  that  i^  renderea  tiic 
word  of  (lod  less  precious  in  his  mouth,  the  worid  only 
valuino:  what  is  rare ;  every  one  runs  to  look  at  thi^ 
moon,  but  no  one  gets  up  earlier  to  see  the  sun  rise,  aiid 


word  I  announce,  teaching  me  that  we  are  debtora  to 
ail  men,  and  that  we  must  not  only  lend  but  giTe  our* 
selves  to  all  who  ask  for  us,  and  that  true  charity  nei> 
ther  seeks  nor  consults  its  own  interests  but  those  oa 
Ood  and  its  neighbour,  how  could  I  bring  myself  to 
disappoint  and  send  away  such  as  ask  for  me?  Not 
to  speak  of  the  rudeness,  it  appears  to  me  that  it  would 
be  a  great  defect  of  fraternal  love.  How  far  removeo 
are  we  still  from  the  class  of  thosA  two  great  sainta, 
one  of  whom  was  willing  tx)  be  blct''i'<t  out  of  the  bools 
of  life  for  his  brethren,  and  the  other  to  be  anathema 
and  separated  from  Jesus  Christ,  which  oomee  to  the 
same  tning  I' 

**  On  one  occasion  he  was  asked  to  preach  on  a 
festival ;  he  immediately  acquiesced ;  and  upon  one  of 
his  servants  reminding  him  that  some  days  {vevioiuly 
he  had  promised  to  preach  elsewhere  the  same  day. 
^  Never  mind,'  he  said ;  ^  Ood  will  give  us  the  grace  to 
multiply  our  bread.  He  is  rich  in  mercy  to  moh  aa 
call  upon  Hinu* ''    M.  de  Belley  adda  that,  **  Baiag 


*..:; 


*i2 


fT.  F1UNOI0  DM  8ALBS. 


,<*, , 


t 


W   t 


;«'*, 


J» 


,4H 


1  ill 


•flailed  with  entreaties  to  consider  his  heal^,  he  eat 
the  matter  short  hy  saying,  *  I  assure  you,  that  if  I  had 
hoen  asked  for  a  tnird  sermon  the  same  day,  I  should 
hnve  less  trouhle  of  mind  and  hody  in  delivering  them 
all,  than  in  refusing.  Must  we  not  consume  ourselves, 
hody  and  soul,  for  this  dear  neighhour  whom  our  Lord 
so  loved  as  to  die  of  love  for  him  V  " 

M.  de  Belley  tells  us  that  he  practised  literally, 
both  in  temporal  and  spiritual  things,  the  Gk>spel  in- 
junction to  give  to  whoever  asks  of  us,  and  assures  us, 
from  his  own  experience,  that  he  never  made  a  just  re- 
quest of  him  hut  he  granted  it,  or  gave  him  a  refusal 
more  just  than  his  request,  and  more  just  even  accord- 
ing to  his  own  judgment ;  his  re^als,  moreover,  being 
seasoned  with  so  much  graciousness  that  they  were 
infinitely  more  pleasing  than  the  favours  of  many  who 
grant  them  so  ungraciously  as  to  make  them  no  favours 
at  all.  "  And  I  never  heard,''  he  continues,  **  of  hii 
having  ever  refused  any  reasonahle  service  which  wti 
requested  of  him.'* 

The  accessible  disposition  of  this  sweetest  of  sainti 
encouraged  numbers  of  women  to  have  recourse  to  hii 
spiritual  advice,  and  to  seek  his  direction.  This  was 
made  matter  of  reproach  to  him,  and  the  Bishop  of 
Belley  relates  how  some  one  abruptly  taxed  him,  ona 
dav,  with  being  constantljr  surrounded,  by  them.  "  The 
Samt  gently  reminded  mm  that  so  it  was  with  our 
Lord,  and  tnat  many  murmured  at  it.  '  But,'  resumed 
his  assailant,  who  had  made  this  remark  rather  lightly, 
'  I  really  don't  know  what  amusement  they  find  in  it| 
for  I  do  not  perceive  that  you  keep  the  conversation  up 
very  briskly,  or  that  you  say  any  great  matter  to  them. 
And  do  you  reckon  for  nothing,'  replied  the  Saint, 
letting  them  have  their  say  ?  They  most  certainly  want 
ears  to  listen  to  them,  more  than  tongues  to  reply.  They 
talk  enough  for  themselves  and  for  me  too;  postibh 
it  is  this  readiness  to  listen  to  them  which  forms  thav 
attraction,  for  there  is  nothing  a  lo()uacious  person  likM 
•0  much  as  a  quiet  and  patient  listener.'    The  other, 


Ii,  he  cot 
tiflhad 
I  shonld 
mg  them 
ourselveiL 
our  Lord 

literally, 
lospel  in- 
ssures  ns, 
ajust  re- 

a  refusal 
)ii  accord- 
Yer,  being 
ihey  were 
nany  who 
Qorayonn 
),  «of  hif 
irhich  waf 

e  of  saint! 
iirsetohis 

This  was 
Binhop  of 

him,  one 
m.  "The 

with  our 
*  resumed 
er  lightly, 
find  in  it, 
ffsationup 
r  to  them, 
the  Sainty 
ainlywant 
ply.  They 

J  posnblt 
orms  their 
ersonlikMi 
rhe  othar, 


fT.  fBlNOIS  DB  aiLlt. 

wntmuing  t&e  same  freedom  of  ohserratioii,  said  thai 
he  had  watched  his  confessional,  and  had  tdran  notice 
that  for  one  man  there  were  crowds  of  women  who  be- 
sieged it.  'What  wonder?'  he  replied;  'this  sex  is 
more  disposed  to  piety ;  this  is  why  the  Church  applies 
to  it  the  epithet  of  aevout.  Would  to  God  that  men, 
who  commit  much  worse  sins,  had  as  much  inclination 
for  penance !'  The  other,  getting  bolder  eyenr  minute^ 
now  asked  him  if  more  women  were  sayed  than  men. 
'  Seriously  speaking,'  »ud  the  Saint,  'it  is  not  for  us  te 
pry  into  the  secrets  of  God,  or  to  be  His  counsellors  ;* 
and  Jby  this  answer  he  cut  short  the  conyersation." 

Tnat  he,  neyertheless,  well  knew  how  to  unite  dr- 
cumspeotion  with  kindness,  is  thus  exemplified : 

"  There  was  a  prelate  who  would  not  permit  any 
woman,  no  matter  who  she  might  be,  to  enter  hit 
house,  grounding  his  conduct  upon  the  example  and 
counsel  of  St.  Augustine.  He  had  accordingly  caused 
a  kind  of  parlour  to  be  constructed,  with  a  species  ot 
grillef  in  a  chapel,  where  he  spoke  tr  them.  Tne  &unt, 
who  loved  this  prelate,  without  blaming  this  seyerity, 
limited  himself  to  laughing  pleasantly  at  it,  saying,  that 
this  bishop  was  only  half  a  pastor,  since  he  separated 
himself  thus  from  tne  moiety  of  his  flock.  Upon  the 
complaints  which  were  macfe  to  him  on  the  subject, 
he  promised  to  speak  to  the  prelate.  The  bishop,  m 
his  defence,  allegeu  uis  age  (for  he  was  still  young),  his 
fear  of  cidumnious  tongues  and  of  the  snare  into  which 
such  conversation  led,  the  advice  of  the  ancient  fathers* 
the  good  example  thus  held  out  to  other  ecclesiastics, 
and  many  sucn-like  reasons.  Our  Saint  praised  hit 
zefd  and  caution,  but  observed  that,  without  practising 
this  external  severity,  there  was  «a  easier,  surer,  ana 
less  inconvenient  means,  and  one  less  subject  to  censure 
or  interference.  'Never  speak  to  women,'  he  said, 
'  but  in  the  presence  of  otners ;  and  charge  your  at 
lendants  never  to  lose  sight  of  you  when  you  have  to 
eonfer  with  them.  I  do  not  mean  that  it  is  neoesMiy 
they  ahould  inytrifUy  hear  what  you  say;  for  thai 


ftu' 


Sr'' 


f'iil    ^ 


MIV 


\m 


!!'*.»'' 1 


LJ  ,. 


I  I 


I 


«44 


•T.  FRAVOIl  DB  lALI 


vould  not  be  always  expedient,  as  these  mttton  oftflB 
regard  the  conscience ;  out  let  them  be  within  sights 
and  witnesses  of  your  behaviour;  and  if  you  will  com- 
miesion  one  of  your  chaplains^  the  same  to  whom  you 
commit  the  charffe  of  your  interior,  to  admonish  you 
concerning  your  deportment  and  actions,  believe  me  that 
tliis  will  be  worth  all  the  grating  in  the  world,  were  it 
«ven  of  iron  and  bristling  with  spikes.'  Now  the  advice 
he  gave  was  what  he  himself  practised ;  for  though  hia 
house  was  open  to  every  one,  he  never  spoke  to  women, 
wherever  he  might  be,  without  being  attentively  watched. 
He  gave  another  piece  of  advice  touching  letters.  '  Do 
not  write  to  women,'  he  said,  ^except  in  answer  to 
iheir  letters,  imless  there  be  some  ui^ent  necessity ;  but 
never  of  your  own  accord,  save  in  the  case  of  indi- 
viduals beyond  suspicion,  such  as  a  mother,  a  sister,  or 
a  very  old  person ;  and  let  your  letters  even  then  be 
only  occasional  and  brief  " 

The  needy  never  applied  to  him  in  vain,  and  hia 
purse,  poorly  furnished  as  it  ever  was,  never  closed  at 
the  voice  of  the  suppliant  We  have  a  specimen  here 
of  his  readiness  to  give,  and  his  unwillingness  to  refuse 
even  those  whom  some  might  have  considered  little 
worthy  of  his  liberality : 

"  A  person  made  bold  to  hee  him  to  lend  him 
twelve  crowns,  and  insisted  on  giving  him  a  written 
promise  of  payment,  in  spite  of  the  Sainfs  disinclination, 
who  not  only  did  not  require  it  but  objected  to  having 
it,  and  this  promif/j  Inr  the  borrower's  own  desire  was 
hmited  to  the  term  of  a  month.  The  month  was  pro- 
longed to  a  year,  at  the  end  of  which  time  the  person 
returned,  and  without  alluding  to  the  twelve  orowng 
o.lready  lent,  asked  for  ten.  The  Saint,  begging  him  to 
wait  in  the  reception-room,  went  to  fetch  the  written 
engagement,  and  rejoining  him,  said,  '  You  beg  me  to 
lend  you  only  ten  crowns,  here  are  twelve,  whion  I  wil- 
lingly give  you ;'  so  saying,  he  returned  him  his  jvomiie. 

**  Another  begged  to  borrow  twenty  crowns,  «m1 
to  give  bis  written  acknowledgment.   TlnCya^ 


•T.  FRAifOIS  DB  8ALBI. 


941 


oftflB 

8ight> 
I  com- 
n  you 
h  you 
lethat 
rere  it 
adyice 
ighhis 
Tomea, 
Itched. 
.   'Do 
wrer  to 
y;  but 
f  indi- 
ster,  or 
ihen  M 


id  him 
Iwritten 
lation, 
having 
lire  was 
pro- 
poreoo 
IcrowDfl 
Ihim  to 
ritten 
me  to 
Iwil- 
)miie. 
nd 


ted  not  always  so  larse  a  sum  at  his  disposal ;  nerer- 
theiess,  he  had  so  kind  a  heart,  that  he  would  have  cut 
himself  into  pieces  for  his  neighbour.  He  bethought  him- 
self^ therefore,  of  a  device  which  woiild  relieve  the  peti- 
tioner, and  yet  render  his  liberality  proportionate  to  his 
means.  He  went  to  look  for  ten  crowns,  and  returning, 
■aid,  *  I  have  hit  upon  an  expedient  which  will  make  us 
both  gain  ten  crowns  to-day,  if  you  will  only  beheve 
me.'  '  How  is  that  to  be  done,  Monseigneur  V  asked  the 
man.  *  We  have  only,*  he  replied,  *  you  and  I,  both  of 
us,  to  open  our  hands.  Here  are  ten  crowns,  which  I 
give  you  as  a  ipure  donation,  instead  of  lending  you 
twenty;  you  gain  those  ten,  and  as  for  me^  [  shall 
reckon  the  other  ten  as  good  as  gained  if  you  will  ex- 
cuse me  from  lending  you  them.' 

**  Condescension  to  the  humours  of  others,  and  the 
Fweet  but  most  reasonable  endurance  of  oiu*  neighbour, 
were  his  cherished  and  special  vutues ;  and  he  was  con- 
stantly recommending  tnem  to  his  dear  children.  He 
ok^en  said  to  me,  '  0  how  much  shorter  work  it  is  to 
accommodate  ourselve«i  to  others,  than  to  wish  to  bend 
svery  one  to  our  own  humours  and  opinions!  The 
human  mind  is  a  true  mirror,  which  easUy  assumes  all 
the  colours  presented  to  it ;  the  important  point  is,  that 
we  should  not  resemble  the  cameleon,  wmch  is  sus- 
ceptible of  all  except  white ;  for  a  condescension  which 
is  not  accompaniea  by  candour  and  purity  is  a  danger- 
ous condescension^  and  cannot  be  too  diligently  shunned. 
We  must  condescend  in  every  thinK^  even  to  the  very 
tltar,  that  is,  up  to  the  point  where  God  is  not  offended : 
here  are  the  limits  of  true  condescension.' 

**  Never  did  he  utter  a  word  of  menace,  or  use  an 
annry  expression  to  his  servants ;  and  when  they  were 
gmlty  of  faults,  he  seasoned  his  reproofs  with  so  muci. 
sweetness,  that  they  corrected  themselves  from  love, 
without  dreading  a  rod  of  iron,  which  they  knew  well 
he  had  not  in.  his  hand.  One  day,  conversing  with  him 
about  the  manner  in  which  servan  ts  ought  to  oe  treated, 
tad  observing  that  familiarity  was  i^t  to  breed 


X 


n  i      '1 


,it 


\t^^ 


'   '   '( 


mm 


M 
i| 


r,  (I 


y^'m 


'l^ 


ffli 


M 


946 


■T.  FRANCIS  D£  lALBl. 


teni])t,  'Yes,'  he  said,  'tmbecominf^,  ooane»  and  reprs- 
hensible  familiarity,  but  never  that  which  is  civil,  cor* 
dial,  proper,  and  virtuous ;  for  as  it  proceeds  from  love, 
love  produces  its  like ;  and  true  love  is  never  without 
esteem,  and  conseqr  ntly  without  respect  for  the  person 
loved,  seeing  that  our  love  is,  in  fact,  founded  npon  the 
esteem  in  which  we  bold  him.*     *But,'  said  I,  'we 


must  then  give  up  every  thing  to  them,  and  let  them 
do  8  J  they  like.  ^No;  I  only  say  that  if  charily 
reign  •  in  our  hearts,  she  will  know  ho  (7  to  allot  therr 
prop'T  parts  to  discretion,  prudence,  justice,  moderation, 
magnanimity,  as  well  as  to  humility,  abjection,  pa- 
tience, endiirance,  and  gentleness.  With  regard  to 
servants,  I  must  say,  after  all,  they  are  our  neighbour! 
and  lowly  brethren,  whom  charity  obUges  us  to  love  aa 
ourselves;  let  us  then  love  them  as  we  do  ourselves, 
these  dear  neighbours  who  are  so  near  to  us  and  so  truly 
o'lr  neighbours,  and  who  live  under  the  same  roof  wif  j 
vs  and  eat  of  our  bread ;  and  let  us  treat  them  as  our- 
elves,  or  mtber  as  we  should  wish  to  be  treated  if  we 
irere  in  their  place  and  condition ;  this  is  the  best  way 
jO  behave  to  servants.  It  is  true,  we  must,  not  overlook 
their  faults  when  they  are  considerable,  nor  spare  to 
correct  them ;  but  we  must  at  the  same  time  recognise 
the  service  they  ren^'er  us ;  and  it  is  w?ll  occasionally 
to  testify  our  satisfaction  with  it,  and  our  confidence 
in  them,  and  to  show  tLem  that  we  account  them  as 
orethren,  or  as  iiiends,  whose  necessities  we  wish  to  re- 
lieve, and  whose  welfare  we  desire  to  promote.  As  a 
puff  of  wind  in  the  sails  of  a  galley  out  at  sea  fetches 
t  on  more  than  a  hundred  strokes  of  the  oar,  so  alsc 
re  must  admit  that  a  friendly  word  and  a  token  ol 
indness  will  get  more  service  out  of  a  servant  than  a 
iindred  grave,  threatening,  aud  severe  injunctions.' 

Accoi'ding  to  his  great  maxim  of  asking  fornothing 
Jid  refusing  nothing,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  not  deolin- 
og  little  presents  which  the  poor  people  would  bring: 
aim  even  on  occasions  of  the  administration  of  the  saora> 
ODABts.     It  was  quite  edifying  at  sach  times  to  obaarrf 


ST.  FRAN0I8  BE  SALBi. 


947 


d  wpn- 
m\f  cor- 
ona loTe, 
without 
le  person 
•xpon  the 
L  I,    we 
let  them 
f  charitj 
Hot  the» 
deration, 
ition,  pa- 
egard  to 
nghboun 
to  love  at 
ourselves,  '^■ 
i  so  truly 
roof  wit  .1 
n  as  our- 
kted  if  we 
bestwat 
',  overlook 

spare  to 
recognise 
casionally 
;onfidence 
;  them  as 
rish  tore- 
te.  As  a 
ea  fetches 
ir,  so  alsc 

token  ol 
nt  than  a 
Btions.' 
or  nothing 
lot  deolin- 
>ttld  bring 

thesacra- 
toobierrf 


(lie  countetiaiice  dad  kindness  with  which  he  would 
accept  a  handful  of  nuts,  chestnuts,  or  apples,  or  littl# 
cheeses  or  eggs,  which  children  or  poor  people  would 
offer  him.  Others  would  give  him  pence  or  mrthinn) 
which  he  would  Accept,  humbly  thanldng  them.  Ha 
would  receive  even  three  or  four  pence  (half-pence, 
English)  sent  Him  from  some  villajge  for  masses,  which 
be  would  be  most  punctual  in  offering.  The  money 
which  was  given  him,  he  distributed  to  the  poor,  whom 
he  met  coming  out  of  church ;  but  the  eatables  he  re- 
ceived he  earned  away  in  his  rochet  or  in  his  pockets, 
setting  them  on  some  little  platters  in  his  room,  or  hand- 
ing them  over  to  his  stewaid,  and  directing  him  to 
serve  them  up  at  table;  saying  sometimes,  Laboret 
manuum  tuarum  quia  manducaois;  beatus  es,  et  bene 
tibi  erit* 

He  had  a  special  regard  for  innkeepers  who  receive 
ti'avellers ;  and  if  they  were  but  civil  and  obliging,  he 
reckoned  them  quite  saints.  He  said  that  he  saw  no 
condition  in  life  which  furnished  greater  means  of  serv- 
ing God  in  our  neighbour  and  advancing  heavenward, 
because  it  keeps  a  man  continually  engagud  in  works 
of  mercy,  although,  like  the  physician,  ne  receives  his 
salary.  On  one  occasion,  as  he  was  entertaining  us 
after  dinner  liy  way  of  recreation  with  aj^eeable  topics, 
the  conversation  having  turned  upon  innkeepers,  an* 
each  having  given  his  opinion  freely  on  the  subject,  oik 
of  the  party  put  forward  the  proposition,  that  inns  were 
regular  places  of  pillage.  Tne  Saint  was  not  pleased 
with  tliis  observation ;  but  as  it  was  neither  the  time 
nor  the  place  for  administering  a  reproof, — and,  more- 
3ver,  the  person  in  question  would  not  have  received  it 
irell, — he  reserved  it  possibly  for  a  more  favourable  op- 
portunity, and  turned  off  the  conversation  by  relating 
.0  us  the  foUowmg  anecdote :  *  A  Spanish  pilgrim^'  m 
Mid, '  with  a  purse  not  overloaded,  arrived  at  an  imii 

*  **  F  jr  thou  ahalt  eAt  the  labonrs  of  thy  handi  t  UMStd  iff 
loi,  tod  it  «baU  bo  woU  with  the*."  Ffe.  oxxriL  fl. 


U!.J 


■i^ 


^!i  I;; 


^8 


ST.  PRANCIt  DB  SALMb 


where,  having'  fared  but  ill,  he  had  to  pay  w>  highlj  fti 
the  Uttle  he  had  had,  that  he  called  heaven  and  eartb 
to  vritness  that  he  was  imposed  upon.  Tltara  wm 
nothing  lor  it,  however,  but  to  pay;  and,  heiin^  th« 
weakest,  he  was  obhg^ed,  into  the  bargain,  to  siiig  gruiiU. 
He  issued  fi*om  the  inn  in  a  great  state  of  indiaiaatiov', 
like  a  man  who  has  liad  his  pockets  picked.  J  his  iim 
stood  where  two  ways  met,  and  with  another  house  of 
enteitainment  facing  it,  a  cross  ptimding  in  the  centre. 
This  suggested  to  him  ai\  idea  wlierewithal  to  relieve 
his  vexation.  "  Truly,"  lie  exclaimed,  "  tliis  place  is  a 
Calvary,  where  our  Lord  Las  beei).  crucified  between 
two  thifives,"  meaniug  the  landlords  of  the  two  inna. 
The  master  of  tlia  house  at  which  he  had  not  lotted, 
happeii  :1  to  be  standir,^  at  his  door,  and,  excusing liim 
in  consideiiitii};'  of  his  distress,  quietly  asked  him  what 
wrong  he  LnA  done  him,  that  he  should  apply  such  an 
epithet  to  h<uv.  Tie  pilgrim,  whose  capacity  was  not 
limiU-d  to  the  use  of  his  staff,  answered  quickly,  *  Have 
done,  brother,  have  done ;  you  shall  be  the  good  one/ 
in  allusion  to  there  being  a  good  and  a  bad  thief,  one 
m  each  side  of  our  Lord.  "  I  reckon  you  the  jgood  one, 
for  you  have  done  me  no  wrong ;  but  what  woidd  yon 
have  me  call  your  neighbour,  who  has  skinned  me 
alive  V*  *  After  relatin&f  this  storVi  he  took  occasion  to 
say  gently  that  this  poor  pil^dm  f&ished  his  outbreak  of 
anger  with  this  civil  turn :  but  that  we  must  neverthe- 
less avoid,  as  a  general  rule,  passmg  a  sweeping  censure 
upon  nations  or  professions,  calling  them  n^cals,  in- 
solent fellows,  or  traitors ;  for  although  we  might  have 
no  one  in  particular  in  our  eye,  stul  the  individuali 
belonging  to  those  nations  or  professions  felt  themeelvea 
implicated  in  such  blame,  and  did  not  like  being  treated 
m  that  manner. 

"  Our  Saint,  I  must  tell  you,  was  so  partial  to  inn- 
keepers, that,  when  on  a  journey,  he  very  expressly 
forbade  his  attendants  to  bargain  with  them  about  the 
price  of  any  thing,  and  would  have  them  put  up  with 
any  injustice  rather  than  give  them  offence;  woawhrn 


ST.  FHAirOIf  DB  lALI 


24» 


kighljfei 
ind  eaiib 

hare  WM 
borng"  tha 

j'bis  ikm 
liouse  of 
le  centra, 
to  i^Iieye 
place  is  a 
batween 
Iwo  ixmtL 
t  locked, 
isingliiin 
lim  what 
'  such  an 
'  was  not 
Yf  *  Have 
ood  one,* 
thief,  one 
;(X)d  one, 
ould  you 
oned  mo 
cfision  to 
threakof 
leverthe- 
^censura 
icalsy  in- 
rht  have 
lividuali 
smselyef 
;*  treated 

1  to  inn- 
xpresslj 
!)out  the 
up  with 
miwImb 


I 


jafonned  that  they  were  auite  unraasonabley  ehaiging 
double  and  treble  the  worth  of  things,  he  would  reply, 
*  We  must  not  look  merely  to  that ;  what  account  are 
you  taking  of  their  attention,  their  trouble,  their  loss 
of  rest,  and  obliging  behaviour  ?  We  certomly  cannot 
pay  too  highly  for  all  that.'  The  result  of  this  kind- 
ness of  our  Saint,  combined  with  the  universal  reputa- 
tion of  hin  piety,  was,  that  the  innkeepers  who  Knew 
him  would  very  commonly  make  no  chai^  at  all, 
leaving  their  remuneration  to  his  discretion,  which 
almost  always  awarded  them  more  than  they  would 
nave  asked. 

**  The  saintly  prelate  had  such  a  tender  love  for  the 
poor,  that  in  this  respect  alone  did  he  appear  to  make 
some  distinction  of  persons,  preferring  them  to  the  rich, 
whether  in  spiritual  or  corporal  matters,  acting  like 
physicians  who  hasten  to  attend  those  who  need  it 
most.  One  day  I  was  waiting  with  many  others  for 
my  turn,  while  he  was  hearing  the  confession  of  a  poor 
blind  old  woman  who  begged  her  bread  from  door  to 
door,  and  as  I  expressed  my  surprise  afterwards  at  the 
length  of  time  she  had  detained  him,  he  said,  'She  seei 
the  things  of  God  more  clearly  than  many  who  enjoy 
good  eye-sight.'  Another  day  I  was  boating  with  him 
on  the  lake  at  Annecy,  and  the  rowers  called  him  Father, 
and  conversed  famiharly  with  him.  *  Do  you  see  these 
good  people,'  he  observed  to  me,  *  they  call  me  Father, 
and  they  truly  love  me  as  such;  0  how  much  bettw 
do  they  please  me  than  those  compUment-pay^rs  who 
call  me  Monseigneur !' 

''  He  suffered  the  pains  of  sickness  with  a  patienot 
accompamed  with  so  much  love  and  sweetness,  that  the 
slightest  complaint  was  never  heard  to  escape  his  lips, 
nor  the  smallest  desire  which  was  not  conformable  to 
the  divine  will.  He  never  expressed  the  least  regret 
for  the  services  which  he  might  have  rendered  to  God 
and  his  neighbour  had  he  been  in  health.  He  was 
willing  to  suffer  because  such  was.  Gk)d's  good  i^iU. 
<  He  biowi  better/  ha  would  say,  *  than  I  do  wb^it  mtp 


260 


me 


•T.  FBAHOII  DV  SAtlti 


let  US  not  interfere  with  Him;  it  ii  the  Lord,  lei 
Him  do  what  seems  good  in  His  eyes.  0  Lord,  Thy 
will  be  done,  not  mine.  Eyen  so,  neayenly  Father  it 
is  my  will  since  it  seems  good  in  Thine  eyes.  Yea^ 
Lord,  I  will  it;  may  Thy  law  and  Thy  will  be  for  eyei 
engraven  in  my  heart !'  If  he  was  asked  whether  he 
would  take  some  medicine,  or  some  broth,  or  whether 
he  consented  to  be  bled,  he  wonld  make  no  other  reply 
than,  '  Do  what  you  will  ?rith  the  sick  man ;  God  nas 
placed  me  in  the  hands  of  the  physicians.'  Neyer  was 
any  thing  like  his  simplicity  and  obedience,  for  he 
honoured  God  m  physicians,  and  knew  that  Gkxl  has 
given  medicine  its  virtue,  and  commands  us  to  honour 
the  physician,  an  honour  which  implies  obedience.  He 
stated  his  malady  without  exaggerating  it  by  excessive 
complaints,  and  without  diminishing  it  by  dissimulation 
The  first  he  reckoned  to  be  cowarcuce ;  the  second,  du 
plicity.  When  the  inferior  pert  was  under  the  pressure 
of  acute  pain,  one  might  read  m  the  expression  of  his 
countenance,  and  above  all  of  his  eyes,  we  serenity  a 
the  superior  region,  which  shone  through  the  donds  oi 
suffering  which  oppressed  his  bcdy. 

<'  The  Saint  being  at  Paris  in  the  year  1619,  a 
nobleman  of  distinction  who  had  accompanied  the  princes 
of  Savoy  on  their  visit  to  that  city,  fell  so  dangerously 
ill,  that  the  physicians  did  not  think  he  could  recover. 
The  nobleman  m  this  state  desired  to  be  assisted  by  our 
Saint ;  he  bore  the  pains  of  bin  illness  with  considerable 
fortitude,  but  his  mird  was  disturbed  about  matters  oi 
trivial  importancr..  Upon  which  the  Saint  said  to  me, 
'  0  how  aeplo.  able  is  numan  weakness !  tiiis  man  has 
the  reputation  if  a  great  soldier  i md  statesman,  aui  is 
reckoned  to  pMssess  an  excellent  judgment ;  yet  yon 
see  with  what  trifles  his  mind  is  engrossed.  He  did 
not  lament  sc  much  being  ill  and  ^bout  to  die,  as  the 
being  ill  and  djring  away  from  his  country  and  home. 
He  deplored  the  loss  of  his  wife's  regrets  and  assiit 
•noe,  and  the  absence  of  his  childrai,  on  whom  ha 
hftvo  bettowed  his  Uesiinir.     BomafcimM  kt 


fT.  FBANOIS  DB  MALWM, 


861 


le  Lord.  lei 

LordyTh? 

Father,  it 
>yes.  Yea^ 
oe  for  erer 
Krhether  he 
or  whether 
other  replj 

:  Oodnai 
Never  was 
ice,  for  ha 
tt  Qod  hai 

to  hononr 
ience.   He 
jrexoessiye 
Bimnlatioii 
eoond,  da 
le  pressure 
eion  of  Ids 
serenity  a 
9  doads  ox 

r  1619,  a 

the  princes 
ingaronslj 
Id  reoorer. 
ted  by  our 
•nsiderable 
matters  oi 
ud  to  me, 
I  man  has 
an,aai  is 
I  yet  yon 
He  did 
lie,  as  the 
md  hoBiA. 
nd  assist 
whom  ha 


dmgt  for  his  ordinary  physician,  who  nnderstood  h* 
constitution  from  attendance  on  hun  for  so  many  yearn. 
At  other  times  he  particularly  enjoined,  malunff  it 
his  earnest  request,  uiat  he  should  not  be  buried  at 
Paris,  but  that  his  body  should  be  taken  back  to  his 
own  country,  to  be  laid  m  tho  sepulchre  of  his  ancestors. 
Then  again  he  gave  directions  about  his  epitaph,  about 
the  arrangements  for  his  removal,  and  the  ceremony  of 
his  fimerfu.  He  complained  of  the  air  of  Paris,  ox  the 
water,  of  his  medicines,  of  the  physicians,  surgeons,  and 
apothecaries,  of  his  servants,  of  his  lodging,  of  his  room, 
of  his  bed,  of  every  thing.  In  short,  he  could  not  die 
in  peace  because  he  was  not  dying  in  the  place  where 
he  wished  to  die.  When  he  was  told  that  he  had  every 
possible  assistance  he  could  desire  both  for  body  and 
soul,  that  those  whose  absence  he  regretted  would  but 
lave  added  to  his  grief  by  their  presence, — to  every 
topic  of  consolation  proposed  he  had  admirable  answers 
ready  whereby  to  aggravate  his  sufferings  and  add 
poignancy  to  his  sorrow,  such  ingenuity  dia  he  display 
m  tormenting  himself.  He  expired  at  last,  fortifiea  by 
ihe  sacraments  and  tolerably  resigned  to  the  will  of 
Ood.*  The  Saint  made  this  comment  to  me,  *  It  is  not 
sufficient  to  will  what  God  wills;  we  must  will  it  in 
the  manner  He  wills,  and  in  every  one  cf  its  circum- 
stances. For  instance,  ^vhen  ill,  we  must  will  to  be  so 
since  such  is  God's  pleasure,  tmd  we  must  will  to  suffer 
tais  particular  complaint  pjid  not  another,  in  this  special 
place,  and  &*  this  time,  as  well  as  among  such  persons 
as  it  shall  please  God.  In  fine,  our  law  in  every  thing 
must  be  the  most  holy  will  of  God.  Such  is  the  lesson 
I  learnt  on  this  occasion.' 

''  Our  Saint  was  in  the  habit  of  sayixig  that  the 
meanest  of  all  temptations  was  the  temptation  to  dis- 
couragement. When  the  enemy  has  made  us  lose  all 
heart  for  our  progress  in  virtue,  he  makes  cheap  work 
of  us,  and  soon  pushes  us  to  the  precipice  of  siiL  To 
correct  this  fault,  the  Saint  said  one  aaj  to  some  od& 
*Ue  patient  with  all,  but  specially  with  yonnelf;  I 


\. 


IT.  FRANCIS  DB  BALBt. 


m  M 


111:  I 


mean  that  jou  ooght  never  to  be  disturbed  at  your  t 
perfections,  and  must  always  arise  again  with  renewed 
courage.  Tliere  is  no  better  way  of  accomplishinff  the 
spiritual  life  than  always  beginning  fu;;ain,  never  think- 
ing we  have  done  enough.  And  in  root,  how  shall  we 
ever  bear  with  patience  our  neighbours'  defects,  if  we 
are  impatient  with  our  own?  How  shall  we  be  abl# 
to  reprove  others  in  a  spirit  of  sweetness,  if  we  correct 
ourselves  with  spite,  snarpnets,  and  iU- temper.  R* 
who  is  disquieted  at  the  oight  of  his  own  imperfections 
will  never  correct  himself;  for  correction,  to  be  profit- 
able, must  proceed  fKm  a  tranquil  and  sedate  spirit.' 

"  Common  minds/'  observes  M.  de  Belley  in  an- 
other place,  **  live  well  when  all  goes  according  to  theii 
wishes ;  but  true  virtue  shows  itself  in  the  midst  oi 
contradictions.  The  more  contradictions  our  Saint  met 
with,  the  greater  was  his  tranquillity,  and,  like  the 
palm-tree,  the  more  he  was  beaten  by  the  winds,  the 
deeper  he  struck  his  roots.  Here  are  his  own  expressions 
on  the  subject :  '  For  some  time  past,  frill  of  oppositions 
and  contradictious  which  have  come  to  break  in  upon 
my  tranquillity,  I  have  seemed  to  derive  from  thorn  a 
sweet  and  dehghtful  peace,  which  nothing  can  surpass, 
and  I  see  in  this  a  presage  of  the  approaching  establish- 
ment of  my  soul  in  its  God,  which  is  truly  not  merely 
the  great,  out  the  only  ambition  and  passionate  desire 
of  my  heart' " 


TBI  SAIHT'S  DBTAOHIOHT  VBOM  >A>nU.T  THnOS,  AMD  KB 
LOVK  OV  POVBBTT. 

''There  are  earthly  desires  and  heavenly  desires. 
Of  these  last  we  cannot  have  too  great  abnndanoe; 
they  are  so  many  wings  which  raise  us  to  God ;  they 
are  those  wings  of  the  dove  which  the  prophet  asked 
of  God,  to  fly  after  eternal  rest.  For  the  otoers,  whioL 
rmrd  only  temporary  and  perishable  thingVy  and 
vmeh  Ind  ns  to  earthy  we  eannot  hava  too  wir.    6i 


tT.  FRANCIS  DE  tALlt. 


A.ng?istme  calls  them  tha  f^lue  of  the  spiritnal  winn 
From  these  sort  of  desires  our  Saint  was  exoeedingl^ 
free.  Here  are  his  own  words :  *  I  wish  for  very  hme, 
and  what  I  wisli  for  I  wish  very  Kttle.  I  have  soarcelj 
any  desires ;  and  if  I  had  to  heg'iu  life  aprain,  I  should 
wish  to  have  none.  Earth,  indeed,  ie  of  little  value, 
rather  I  sliould  say  of  none,  to  hun  who  aspires  to 
heaven,  and  time  hut  a  shadow  to  him  who  is  tending 
to  eternity.' 

"  Som*'  one  speakinc',  one  day,  in  presence  of  our 
Saint,  of  a  |)relate  of  higTi  rank  in  the  Church,  said 
that  he  wns  settinp^  all  his  sails  to  reach  the  dignity  oi 
cardinal,  and  that  his  absence  was  the  cause  of  soma 
confusion  in  his  diocese.  '  Would  to  God  he  were  a 
cardinal  already !'  said  the  Saint.  I  asked  him  why 
'  Because,'  he  rej)lied,  '  he  would  then  think  of  some* 
thing  better.'  *  What !'  I  exclaimed,  *of  becoming 
Pope  next?  And  who  is  to  absolve  him  from  such  a 
Mn  as  that  ?'  *  That  is  not  what  I  mean,  but  the  care 
of  souls,  the  art  of  arts,  in  the  exercise  of  which  we 
can  do  the  Lord  the  greatest  service.'  *  But  will  not 
this  dignity,'  J  replied,  *  interfere  with  his  attention  to 
it  V  *  It  need  not,'  he  rejoined ;  *  since  in  our  days  St. 
Charles  has  so  eminently  succeeded ;  but  what  I  mean  is, 
tiiat,  no  longer  having  the  pursuit  of  this  honour  in  his 
head,  his  heart  would  recal  him,  and  he  would  bethinJc 
himself  of  his  pastoral  obligations,  which  are  of  divine 
rig) it,  and  would  attend  to  them  with  undistracted  atten- 
tion, which  would  give  great  edification  to  the  Church.' " 

M.  de  Belley  adds,  that  St.  Francis's  prcgnostio 
prf)ved  a  true  one.  "  Having  attained  wbBT>  he  least 
expected  it  the  coveted  honour,  this  p)  'sla!©  valued  it 
little,  and  recalling  to  mind  the  importasui^  of  his  epis- 
copai  duties,  was  about  to  return  to  devote  himselt  to 
them,  when  God,  accepting  his  good  will,  called  him 
from  this  world,  afber  he  had  enjoyed,  with  little  satis- 
fnction  for  six  months,  what  he  had  sought  and  laboiured 
for  incessantly  for  thirty  years." 

St  Francis,  when  free  to  choosey  was  astlanioap  t» 


I'r 


m 


<!   ! 


>f  '■■; 


in 


;i':: 


ii  :' 


(3  i'',' 


i!  '' 


if       'I 


•      !' 


ill 


.ij' 


'■  ':  '■    ;  ■.  i 


264 


IT.  FmAVOIl  DB  tALl 


ffhun,  as  this  prelate  wai  to  leek,  the  chmgen  and  rs* 
Bponsibiiitieci  of  exalted  ftation.  If  he  had  rBtumed 
from  Lyons,  where  he  died,  we  learn  from  M .  de  Bellej 
t!iat  he  entertained  the  design  of  retiring  into  solitude, 
and  after  employing  so  many  years  in  the  functions  ol 
Martha,  giving  up  the  rest  of  nis  days  to  the  TOcatioB 
of  Mary,  resigning  his  bishopric  to  his  brother,  who 
already  acted  as  his  coadjutor. 

**  'When  we  are  in  our  retreat,'  he  says,  writing  to 
the  prior  of  a  monastery  near  his  contemplated  hermit- 
age, *  we  will  serve  Qod  with  breviary,  rosary,  and  pen. 
0  who  will  give  me  the  win^s  of  a  dove  to  fly  away  tp 
this  sacred  rest,  and  to  breathe  a  little  under  the  shadow 
of  the  cross !  There  shall  I  await  the  moment  of  my 
change :  Exjaectdho  donee  veniat  mmutatw  meaf* 
**  AIus !"  adds  M.  de  Belley,  "  God  was  preparing  tor 
him  a  far  other  rest,  the  fruit  of  his  labours. 

'"  In  the  year  1619,  when  he  visited  Paris  with  thi 
princes  of  Savoy,  he  made  a  stay  of  eight  montiis^ 
during  which  time  it  is  impossible  to  tell  the  amomA 
of  the  services  wliich,  to  the  glory  of  God,  he  rendered 
to  souls.  The  sweetness  of  his  character  and  conyersft- 
duQ,  which  attracted  every  one  like  some  heayenhr  per* 
fiime,  so  charmed  the  Cardinal  de  Rets  (Ajchbisni^ 
of  Paris),  that  he  desired  to  make  him  his  coadjutinr. 
Not  expecting  any  opposition  from  our  Saint,  he  pr»- 
disposea  the  king  in  favour  of  his  project.  But  tiM 
holy  bishop  knew  how  to  divert  this  luow  with  suoh 
consummate  skill,  that  he  left  the  cardinal,  though  di»> 
appointed  at  his  refusal,  full  of  admiration  of  his  ynrtoe. 
He  alleged  various  excuses  for  his  declining  the  oSeri 
among  others  the  following,  which  pleases  me  mneh; 
that  he  did  not  think  he  ought  to  change  a  pow  wih 
for  a  rich  one ;  and  that  if  he  left  his  wi£,  it  would  not 
be  to  take  another,  but  to  be  without  <nie,  aoeordinff  to 
the  counsel  of  the  apostie,  Art  thou  looted  from  0  ^f^*^ 
Biek  not  a  wife^f  adding,  that  having  beitoirisd  atfms 


•  **  I  will  Mcpcot  ai|^  ny  ehaace 
t  lOor.viLir 


b**  Jobshr.l4 


[wv  And  r^ 
id  f^Btarned 
I.  de  Belley 
ito  solitude, 
Amotions  ot 
bhe  Tooation 
rother,  who 

I,  writing  to 
ited  hermit- 
rjy  and  pen. 
fly  away  to 
the  shadow 
ment  of  my 
uHo  mea.* 
reparing  tor 
I. 

Lfis  with  thi 
^ht  months^ 
the  amouM 
he  rendered 
idoonversa- 
saTenhrper* 
Arohbisnop 
s  ooadjntOT. 
int,  he  pre- 
;.  But  the 
'  with  sueh 
though  die- 
fhis  Tirtue. 
g  the  oiFer: 

me  mnoh; 

apoor  wife 
t  would  not 


»shr.l4 


•T.  FRAHOIB  DB  lALU.  361 

iflbotionf  upon  his  ohwoh,  he  oonld  not  oonoeiTe  any 
or  another. 

**  His  bishopric  (as  has  been  observed),  owing;  to  the 
iepredations  of  neresy,  was  extremely  poor.  To  him  this 
was  matter  of  rejoicing,  and  we  find  nim  on  one  occasion 
adroitly  refusinjif  a  pension  which  the  kin^  (Henry  IV.) 
nressea  upon  nu  acceptance.  An  ecclesiastic,  he  was 
n  the  haoit  of  saying  (and  St.  Paul  declares  the  same 
of  every  Christian),  who  has  food  and  raiment,  and  is 
not  satisfied  therewith,  does  not  deserve  the  name  of 
an  ecclesiastic,  nor  to  have  God  for  the  portion  of  his 
faihei'itance  and  of  his  cup,  '  My  bishopric,'  he  said, 
'  is  worth  as  much  to  me  as  the  archbishopric  of  Toledo ; 
for  it  is  worth  to  me  heaven  or  heU,  even  as  that  of 
Toledo  to  its  archbishop,  acoordin^^  as  we  each  of  us 
acquit  ourselvec  of  our  obugations.  Oodlineu  with  con- 
tentmetU  it  great  gain.*  My  revenue  suffices  for  my 
necessities.  Any  thin?  more  would  be  too  much.  Those 
who  have  more,  only  nave  it  tc  keep  a  larger  establish- 
ment. Ihsj  ihemselves,  therefore,  do  not  profit  by  it, 
but  their  servants,  who  often  eat  without  doing  any 
thing  for  the  interests  of  our  crucified  Lord.  HS  who 
has  less,  has  less  account  to  eive.  He  who  has  less 
iuperfluity,  has  less  to  give,  and  less  solicitude  to  reflect 
to  whom  ne  should  give.  For  the  King  ofglory  will 
be  served  and  honoured  with  judgment.  Those  who 
have  great  revenues,  sometimes  spend  so  much  that  ihey 
are  as  poor  as  I  am  by  the  end  of  the  year,  if  they  do 
not  run  into  debt  into  the  bargain.  If  we  desire  only 
what  nature  requires,  we  shall  never  be  poor;  if  what 
opinion  requires,  wo  shall  never  be  rich.  To  get  rich 
in  a  short  time  and  with  vei^  little  trouble,  we  must 
not  heap  up  mone^,  but  dimmish  cupidity,  imitating 
sculptors,  wno  perrorm  their  work  by  retrenchmff,  and 
not  painters,  wno  execute  theirs  by  adding,  ne  will 
never  have  enough  to  whom  enough  suffices  not'  Above 
all,  he  oould  not  oear  to  hear  an  ecclesiastic  complaininff 
of  povorty ;  '  for,*  said  h%  *  he  entered  into  orden  witS 

•  iTfaavLfb 


N 


f'r  "i 


.%ii 


i 


vl<] 


I,  ^-r; 


'I'M 


n  ii 


rj. ' 


IPi 


ST.  WMAVOU  DB  lALIf . 

a  Imiefioe,  or  with  a  patrimonial  title  sufficient  for  his 
maintenance.  Such  being  the  case,  what  cause  of  com- 
plaint has  he  ?  If  he  produced  a  false  title,  or  accepted 
an  insufficient  benefice,  what  he  ought  to  complain  *o{ 
is  his  own  deceit  or  imprudence,  not  his  poverty.  But 
let  him,  after  all,  remember  that  when  he  received  the 
tonsure  he  declared,  in  presence  of  the  Church  tri- 
umphant and  militant,  that  God  was  tlie  poition  of  his 
inheritance ;  and  what  can  he  want  who  nas  God  and 
His  providence  for  his  portion  ?  What  can  suffice  him 
to  wnom  Qod  is  not  sufficient  ?' 

''Although  they  of  Geneva  withheld  from  him 
nearly  all  the  revenue  of  his  bishopric  and  that  of  his 
chapter,  I  never  heard  him  make  any  complaint;  so 
little  were  his  affections  fixed  on  earcoly  thmgs,  nay, 
BO  little  attention  did  he  pay  them.  He  kniw  how  to 
be  satisfied  with  the  slender  remnant  of  his  bishopric. 
'  Is  not  twelve  hundred  crowns  of  rent,  after  all,  a  good 
deal  V  he  would  say.  '  Are  not  these  fine  leavings  ? 
The  apostles,  who  were  much  better  bishops  than  we 
are,  had  not  so  much.  We  are  not  worthy  to  serve  God 
at  our  own  expense.*  He  longed  only  for  the  conversion 
of  these  souls,  rebellious  to  the  light  of  truth  which 
shines  only  in  the  true  Church.  Sometimes,  speaking 
of  his  Genevu,  his  '  poor,  dear  Geneva,'  as  he  always 
called  it,  notwithstanding  its  rebellion,  he  would  say, 
sigUn?,  'Give  me  the  persons,  and  take  the  rest. 
Would  to  God  we  had  lost  the  remainder,  so  as  the 
Catholic  religion  had  as  free  an  entrance  into  Geneva 
as  it  has  into  La  Rochelle,  and  that  we  had  a  little 
chapel  there'  (this  was  many  years  before  the  capture 
of  tne  latter  place).  This  sweet  hope  he  ever  cherished 
m  his  bosom,  '  It  would  then  soon  make  progress.' 
Never  were  those  words  of  the  Psalm  Super  Jlvmina 
Bcibylonia  (By  the  waters  of  Babylon)  sung  m  choir, 
but  his  thoughts  reverted  to  that  unhappy  city,  the  see 
df  the  bishops  his  predecessors ;  not  that  he  desired  to 
be  installed  there  in  their  pomp  and  wealth,  for  he 
Iftaemed  tha  shame  of  the  oroiw  i|boTe  i}ll  the  riches 


IT.  FRANCIS  DB  SALIS. 


S57 


at  for  biB 
;e  of  com- 
r accepted 
implain  of 
rty.  But 
ceived  the 
hurch  tri- 
tion  of  his 
i  God  and 
suffice  him 

from  him 
that  of  his 
iplaint;  so 
imgs,  nay, 
itw  how  to 
s  bishopric. 
■  all,  a  good 
3  leavings? 
)s  than  we 
serve  GU)d 
conversion 
ruth  which 
i,  speaking 
he  always 
«\rould  say, 
the  rest. 
80  as  the 
ito  (Jenevt 
ad  a  little 
he  capture 
•  cherished 
progress.* 
erjlvmina 
T  m  choir. 
ity,  the  see 
desired  to 
ith,  for  he 
the  richet 


N 


•f  Egypt,  but  because  he  was  touched  with  inward 
grief  of  heart  for  the  loss  of  so  many  souls.  When  ha 
aaid  bis  office  in  private,  and  recited  this  same  Psalm 
with  bis  chaplain,  tears  flowed  from  his  eyes. 

**  I  was  wondering,  one  day,  how  he  could  support 
his  bouse  with  so  slender  a  revenue.  '  It  is  God,^  he 
said,  'who  multiplies  the  five  loaves.'  Pressing  him 
to  explain  to  me  bow  this  took  place, '  It  wouldHbe  no 
miracle,'  he  replied  very  sweetly.  '  if  I  could  explain 
it.  Are  not  we  in  a  blessed  condition  to  live  thus  by 
miracle  ?  It  is  the  mercies  of  the  Lord  that  we  are  not 
consumed.** 

**  One  day  be  said  to  me,  showing  me  a  coat  which 
had  been  made  for  him,  and  which  be  wore  under  his 
cassock,  '  My  people  work  little  miracles,  for  out  of  an 
old  coat  they  nave  made  me  Quite  a  new  one;  havfl 
not  they  made  a  smart  one  V  '  T\us  miracle,'  I  replied, 
'  seems  an  improvement  upon  that  which  the  children 
of  Israel  experienced,  whose  clothes  did  not  wear  out 
during  the  forty  years  they  abode  in  the  desert;  foi 
here  we  have  old  ones  made  new  again.' 

"  He  said  that  the  covetousness  of  the  eyes  had 
this  evil  in  it,  that  it  never  looked  below  itself,  but 
always  above ;  and  so  those  who  were  infected  with  it 
never  enjoyed  any  peace  or  solid  content.  The  moment 
a  man  desires  to  be  greater  or  richer  than  he  is,  the 
digni^  and  jpropertT  be  possesses  seems  as  nothing  to 
him ;  and  when  he  has  attained  the  object  of  his  wishes, 
bis  appetite  is  sharpened  by  indulgence,  and  his  mental 
dropsy  makes  him  increase  his  thirst  by  drinking ;  so 
that  be  is  constantly  moving  on  without  ever  reaching 
tbo  goal,  death  coming  sooner  than  the  accomplishment 
of  Lis  ambition  and  bis  hopes.  The  Saint  baa  not  only 
set  bounds  to  bis  desires,  but  either  he  had  no  desir* 
for  exaltation,  or  he  looked  upon  bis  station  as  much 
above  bis  desires.  He  often  marvelled  (such  was  hi* 
humility)  that  God  should  have  permitted  him  to  be 
niitd  to  the  dignity  he  held,  setting  so  high  a  vilie 

•  Li»i.iii.flt 


.■\  • 


ST.  FRAN0I8  DB  tALBS. 


on  it  that  he  trembled  when  he  reflected  upon  the  W- 
den  which  had  been  laid  upon  him.  As  he  entertained 
a  ffreat  esteem  for  his  neighbour,  he  wondered  at  be- 
hwdiag  himself  placed  as  superior  aver  persons  i^om 
he  beheved  to  be  better  fitted  and  more  worthy  thaa 
himselt" 


THB  8Anrr*s  pibtt  avd  spboial  DBTonoirai 

'*  It  was  a  saying  of  the  Saint, '  We  must  never 
calk  of  God  nor  of  the  things  which  concern  His  ser^ 
rice, — ^ihat  is,  of  region, — at  random,  and  by  way  of  a 
topic,  and  to  make  conversation,  but  always  with  deep 
respect  high  esteem,  and  genuine  feelmr.'  Again, 
Speak  always  of  God  as  God,  that  is,  wita  reverence 
ana  piety ;  not  to  give  yourself  importance  or  to  set 
yourself  up  to  preach,  but  in  a  spuit  of  sweetness,  cha* 
rity,  and  oumuity.'  The  first  piece  of  advice  is  ad- 
iressed  to  those  who  speak  of  religious  matters  as  of 
any  other  subject  of  conversation,  without  regard  to 
time,  place,  or  persous,  and  with  nc  other  object  than  to 
talk  and  pass  away  time ;  a  wretched  abuse,  of  which 
fit  Jerome  complains  in  his  dav,  saying,  that  all  the 
arts  ant'  sciences  had  their  aaepts,  to  whom  alone 
it  apper^amea  w  spean  w:l> >  authority  about  them ;  it 
was  oniT  Holy  Smpt/ore  ana  'heology,  which  is  the 
root  of  Msienoe,  w^ioh  were  so  unwoiitiily  treated|,  that 
you  heard  people  ac  table  deciding  quesQou»  relating 
to  them,  and  tnat  not;  oiut  in  private  houce»  Oui  even 
in  taverns;  hair-brained  youtns,  iGrnnrant  mecnamcs, 
silly  old  men, — ^in  short,  the  vulgar  o^all  cia»MS. — caking 
upfm  themselves  to  give  tlieir  opinion  on  the  deeoer 
mvsteriei  of  the  faith.  The  second  counsel  k  for  those, 
whether  men  or  women,  who  affect  to  pass  in  society 
for  being  very  learned  and  deeply  versed  in  spiritual 
and  mystical  science,  maintaining'  their  opinions  with 
warmtn,  ill -temper,  sharpness,  irritation,  obitinaer, 
pridfl^  making  more  noise  than  those  who  are  mora  n 


'^•^^ 


8T.  FRANCIS  DE  SALES.  359 

the  right  than  themselves,  but  who  have  not  tool 
strong  heads  and  lend  voices ;  as  if  it  added  any  thing 
to  the  solidity  of  an  argument  to  make  a  great  bluster 
The  Saint  concluded  by  saying,  *  Never,  then,  speak  oi 
Gk>d  or  of  reli^on  formaUy  or  as  a  topic  of  conversation, 
but  always  with  attention  and  devotion ;  and  this  I  say 
to  correct  a  notable  vanity  observable  in  many  per 
sons,  who  make  a  profession  of  piety,  and  who  on  ever} 
occasion  utter  holy  and  fervent  words  in  a  conventionaT^ 
manner  and  without  giving  them  any  thought;  iz.i 
after  having  uttered  them  they  fancy  themselves  to  be 
•uch  as  theur  words  testify  woile  it  is  no  such  thing.' 

**  He  considered  that  among  the  marks  of  pre- 
destination, one  of  the  strongest  was  a  love  of  hearing 
the  word  of  God  according  to  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
Christ.*    To  hearken  to  the  voice  of  the  Shepherd  is 
the  mark  of  a  good  sheep,  who  will  one  day  be  placed 
at  the  right  hand  to  heai*  those  words,  Comey  ye  tlessea 
of  My  Father.    But  he  would  not  have  us  to  be  idle 
and  profitless  hearers  of  this  word.     He  would  have  us 
put  it  in  pra'stice ;  and  he  said  that  God  was  prepared 
to  ffrant  oui  prayers  in  proportion  to  our  efforts  to 
perrorm  what  Le  set  before  us  by  the  mouth  of  the 
ambassadors  of  His  will.     Amoug  those  who  take  a 
pleasure  in  hearin|^  the  word  of  G  id,  he  remarked  that 
a  defect  is  apt  to  insinuate  itself,  naiiiely,  acceptance  of 
)ersons ;  '  as  if  this  salutary  bread  and  this  water  oi 
leavenly  wisdom  were  not  as  profitable  to  the  soul  whe^i 
)rought  by  a  raven  as  by  ar)  angel,  I  mean  by  a  dis> 
agreeable  and  bad  preacher  as  by  a  good  and  pleasing 
one.'    St.  Charles  Borromeo  always  read  the  Scriptures 
on  his  knees,  as  though  he  had  been  listening  to  Ghxl 
ipeaking  from  Mount  Sinai  in  the  midst  of  lightnings 
and  thunders;  and  our  Saint,  whether  speudng  in 
public  or  writing  or  readmg  in  privrte,  desired  that  we 
•hoQld  ever  handle  it  with  the  ver^  greatest  reverenoa 
He  did  not  like  a  preacher  nlungmg  at  once  into  th« 
MyitoJ  MDse  before  he  had  first  expounded  the  literal ; 
•  Je^  vUi,  47|  ^T.  tu 


i  .f 


■i  i 


■f 


h 


r 


•T.  FBAirOIf  DB  SALBi^ 

ihiiy  bv  said,  was  to  oonstract  the  roof  of  a  house  befwe 
lading  -is  foundation.  Holy  Scripture  was  to  be  treated 
with  mure  solidi^  and  reverence." 

M.  de  Belley  proceeds  to  rel&te  an  instance  of  his 
exaotneris  in  the  application  of  any  text  of  Scripture. 

''  Pleaching  one  day  before  him,  I  happened  to 
apply  to  the  contagious  example  of  bad  company  that 
saying  of  the  prophet^  With  the  holy  thou  wilt  he  holy, 
and  with  the  perverse  thou  wilt  he  perverted;*  a  very 
common  applicaticn.  I  perceived  at  once  that  he  was 
not  satisfied ;  and  when  we  were  alone  he  asked  me  why 
i  had  so  strained  this  passage,  knowing  well  that  such 
was  not  the  literal  meaning.  I  replied  that  it  was  in 
the  way  of  allusion.  '  So  I  understand  it/  he  replied ; 
'  but  you  ouffht  at  least  to  have  noticed  that  that  was 
Qot  the  literal  sense ;  for  according  to  the  letter  it  refers 
to  Gh>dy  who  is  good — ^that  is,  merciful — towards  those 
who  are  good,  and  evil — that  is,  severe — towards  those 
who  are  evil ;  punishing  the  one,  and  showing  mercy 
to  the  others.'  Conclude  how  exact  he  himself  was 
when  handling  the  word  of  God,  since  he  was  so  strict 
with  others,--he  who  was  incomparably  more  indulgent 
towards  others  than  towards  himself. 

"  He  recommended  spiritual  reading  as  a  food  of  the 
ioqI,  which  was  at  hand  every  where  and  at  all  times, 
and  which  could  never  fail  us ;  whereas  we  cannot  always 
hear  preaching,  or  have  guides  and  spiritual  directors, 
nor  can  our  memory  always  recall  exactly  all  we  have 
berid  in  sermons  and  in  public  or  private  exhortations. 
He  wished  us  to  provide  ourselves  with  books  of  piety^ 
as  80  many  matches  of  holy  love,  and  never  to  let  a 
day  go  by  Without  making  use  of  them.  He  would 
hare  us  read  with  great  respect  and  devotion,  regarding 
them  fts  so  many  missive  letters  sent  by  the  saints  in 
heaven  to  point  us  out  tha  way  thither  and  encourage  ns 
dn  our  journey.  It  must  be  confessed,  that  thore  are 
DO  wfer  directors  than  those  departed  ones  who  speak 
with  aneh  %  liTing  voioe  in  their  writings.  For  th» 
•  Pkaba  zvii.  i«»  S7. 


'. 


BT.  FRANCIS  DB  SALBS. 


2m 


ouse  before 
}  be  treated 

ance  of  his 
cripture. 
appened  to 
tnpany  that 
tilt  be  holyy 
'df  a  very 
:;hat  ho  was 
ced  me  why 
11  that  such 
it  it  was  in 
he  replied; 
at  that  was 
:ter  it  refers 
wards  those 
wards  those 
^ing  mercy 
limself  was 
as  so  strict 
•e  indulgent 

I  food  of  the 

kt  all  times, 

inot  always 

U  directors, 

ill  we  have 

bortations. 

ks  of  piety, 

er  to  let  a 

He  would 

I,  regarding 

le  saints  m 

loourageiis 

there  are 

who  speak 

.    For  th» 


most  part,  they  were  the  interpreters  of  the  will  of  Ood, 
and  His  ambassadors  for  dispensing  His  word,  the 
bread  of  which  they  broke  to  little  ones  with  their 
tongues,  which  were  to  them  as  pens;  while,  after 
death,  their  pens  serve  as  tongues  by  wkioh  they  speak 
to  us.     If  any  obscurity  or  dimcult}  is  to  be  met  with 
m  their  works,  we  may  have  recourse,  for  its  under- 
standing  and  elucidation,  to  the  assistance  of  some  able 
ana  experienced  person.     He  stron^'ly  recommended 
reading  the  lives  of  the  saints;  saying,  that  it  was 
the  Gospel  in  practice.    We  shall  at  the  least  derive 
from  their  perusal  a  great  love  for  piety,  provided  we 
read  with  humility  and  a  desire  to  imitate  the  saints. 
Like  the  manna,  we  find  therein  whatever  flavour  pleases 
our  taste.    From  so  many  different  flowers  it  is  easy 
to  extract,,  like  industrious  bees,  the  honeycomb  of  ex- 
cellent piety.     Although  the  Imeaments  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  in  souls  are  as  various,  and  even  more  so,  than 
the  features  of  our  faces,  still  it  is  tine  that  we  can 
draw  from  them  something  to  imitate,  or  at  any  rate 
wherewithal  to  admire  the  grace  of  God,  which  has 
worked  such  great  things  in  and  by  them.    And  if  this 
admii'ation  should  be  all  that  we  derive,  would  not  this 
be  an  excellent  way  of  praising  God  and  the  operations 
of  Hisgrace  ? 

"  Efa  was  in  the  habit  of  saying,  speaking  of  the 
two  sacraments  of  Penance  and  the  Holy  Eucharist, 
that  they  were  like  the  two  poles  of  the  Christian  life : 
that  by  the  first  we  renounced  all  sin,  surmounted  all 
temptations,  ard  stripped  ourselves  of  the  old  man ;  and 
that  by  the  second  we  put  on  the  new  man,  Jesus  Christ, 
to  waUc  in  justice  and  holiness,  going  on  from  virtue  to 
virtue  to  the  mountain  of  perfection.  He  admired  much 
that  thought  of  St.  Bernard,  who  wished  his  religious 
to  attribute  to  the  frequent  use  of  this  sacrament  of  life 
all  the  victories  they  gained  ovei  their  vices,  and  all 
the  progress  they  made  in  virtue,  saying  that  it  wai 
there  that  they  drew  water  with  joy  from  the  Saviour'i 
fountaina.    Ht  said,  that  thosa  \r  jc  souicht  txcusM  to 


w 


H 


'.  ,1- 

-     ■  '    r 


11 
■I.J    '      5 


i. 


i  1 


m  •  <5! 


r 


»<E3 


■T.  FRANOIt  DB  1ALB8. 


difpense  them  from  frequent  oommimion,  were  like 
those  inyited  guests  in  the  parable  vrho  excited  the  angw 
of  the  master  of  the  house,  although  their  reasons  of 
refusal  seemed  toler&hlj  plausible.  Some  say  they  are 
not  Bufioiently  perfect ;  and  how  are  they  to  become 
BO,  if  they  keep  away  frcim  the  source  of  all  perfection  ? 
others  plead  tneir  weakness,  but  this  is  the  bread  of 
the  strong ;  others,  infirmity,  but  here  is  the  physician ; 
others,  that  they  are  not  worthy,  but  does  not  the 
Church  put  these  words  into  the  mouths  of  the  holiest : 
Lord,  J  am  not  worthy  that  Thou  thouldett  etUer  im- 
der  my  roqft^  others,  that  they  are  CTtirwhehned  with 
business,  but  here  is  One  who  cries  to  them.  Come  to 
Me  all  you  that  labour  and  are  hwdertedf  and  I  witt 
refresh  you  ,*t  others,  that  they  fear  to  reoeiTe  to  their 
condemnation,  but  have  they  not  reason  to  fear  being 
condemned  for  not  receiving?  others  allege  humility, 
tut  this  is  often  a  false  humility,  like  that  of  Aohaisy 
which  was  opposed  to  the  glory  of  Qod  while  feigning 
to  fear  to  tempt  Him.  And  how  are  we  to  learn  how 
to  receive  Jesus  Christ  well  except  by  receiving  Him, 
as  we  leam  how  to  do  every  thing  else  well  by  dint  of 
doing  it?  His  sentiments  with  regard  to  tne  oom- 
munion  of  the  Body  and  Blood  of  «^sus  Christ  in  the 
Most  Holy  Sacrament  of  the  Eucharist  were  very  sweet 
and  tender;  and  reverential  fear  was  so  tempered  by 
divine  love,  that  ;t  uu  way  interfered  with  confidence,  or 
confidence  with  reverence.  He  ardently  desired  that 
we  should  annihilate  ourselves  in  receiving  the  Holy 
Eucharist,  after  the  pattern  of  the  Savioiu^s  self-an- 
nihilation in  communicating  Himself  to  us ;  bowing  the 
heavens  of  H^'ft  greatness,  tha^  he  may  accommodate 
and  unite  Hiuiseff  to  our  lowr  "ss. 

**  Having  been  bom  during  the  octave  of  the  Aa- 
flumption  of  thp  Blessed  Vir^,  he  had  always  a  pecu- 
liar devotion  towards  her.  Trom  his  tenderett  yean, 
we  leam  from  nis  life,  he  devoted  himself  to  honour 
her,  both  by  Bpedal  fuffrages  and  by  a  singular  lova 
•  Matt  viiL  lb  f  Matt  zL  St. 


I,  were  LQn 
ed  the  angvr 
T  reasons  0/ 
say  they  are 
T  to  become 

I  perfedaon  ? 
;he  bread  of 
e  physician ; 
oes  not  the 
'  the  holiest : 
lit  etUertmr 
hehned  with 
)m,  Cams  to 
If  and  I  wiU 
mve  to  their 
o  fear  being 
^  humility. 
Bit  of  AchaiBy 
liile  feigning 
o  learn  how 
diving  Him, 

II  by  dint  of 
the  com- 

hrist  in  the 
B  very  sweet 
empered  by 
anndence,  or 
desired  that 
g  the  Holy 
lirs  self-an- 
bowing  the 
3commodate 

of  the  As- 

nyi  a  peca- 
erest  yean, 
f  to  honour 
ngnlar  love 
.11. 


o 


M*.  VIIAN0I8  DS  SALBS. 

for  paxitYi  consecrating  himself  to  God  by  »  yow  ot 
perpetual  yurginity  muur  the  protection  and  aid  of  thii 
Queen  of  Virgins.  You  know  that  it  was  on  the  feast 
of  the  Immaculate  Conception  that  he  receiyed  ems- 
copal  consecration,  and  during  this  holy  ceremony  that 
interior  unction  of  which  mention  is  made  in  his  life. 
I^haye  often  heard  him  preach  on  the  glories  of  the 
Mother  of  God;  and  I  must  confess  that  his  incom- 
parable sweetness  seemed  specially  to  fit  him  to  dis- 
course of  this  Mother  of  all  oenediction.  And,  indeed, 
there  was  nothing  he  so  strongly  recommended  his 
spiritual  children  as  devotion  to  me  Blessed  Virgin. 

**  It  was  a  common  sa^g  of  his,  *  We  do  not  suf- 
ficiently bear  our  dead  in  mind,  our  dear  departed  ones ; 
and  the  proof  of  this  is,  we  do  not  talk  often  enough  oi 
them.   We  turn  away  from  the  subject  as  gloomy ;  we 
.et  the  dead  bury  their  dead ;  with  us  their  memory 
dies  away  with  the  sound  of  the  tolling  bell,  and  we 
never  renect  that  a  fiiendship  wluch  death  can  dissolve 
never  was  a  genuine  friendship.  Scripture  even  telling 
us  that  true  love  is  stronger  than  death.    Then  it 
is  that  praise  can  no  longer  be  suspected  of  flattery ; 
and  as  there  is  a  roedes  of  impiety  in  lacerating  the 
reputation  of  the  dead  like  wud-beasts  who  disinter 
bodies  to  devour  them,  so  is  it  a  mark  of  piety  to  re- 
cord their  good  Qualities,  for  we  are  thus  stirred  up  to 
imitate  them.'    When  any  of  his  frioids  or  acquaint 
ance  died,  he  was  insatiable  in  speaking  well  of  them  and 
recommending  them  to  the  prayers  of  every  one.    He 
was  in  liie  haoit  of  ^yin^,  ^t  in  this  one  act  of  mercy 
the  other  thirteen  were  mcluded :  '  Is  it  not,'  he  sai^ 
'  in  a  manner  to  visit  the  sick,  to  obtain  by  our  prayers 
the  relief  of  these  poor  souls  in  purgatory?    Is  it  not 
to  ^ve  drink  tc  those  who  so  intensely  thirst  fat  the 
vision  of  God,  and  who  are  in  the  midst  of  those  fierce 
flames,  to  give  tham  a  share  of  the  dew  of  our  prayers  ? 
Is  it  not  to  feed  the  hungir,  to  forward  tlieir  deliyer^ 
anee  by  the  means  which  faith  snggTsts  to  us?    Is  it 
•sttnaytonuDMOBpriionm?    Is  it  sot  to  dotht  tbi 


t84 


•T.  FBANOIB  DB  SALBf 


naked,  to  proooro  for  them  a  gannent  of  light,  tfM 
the  light  of  glory?  Is  it  not  to  exercise  a  vngnlai 
hospiUuityi  to  obtain  their  introduotion  into  the  heavenl;! 
Jerosalem,  and  render  them  citizens  of  the  saints  and 
of  the  household  of  God  in  the  eternal  Sion  ?  Is  it  not 
a  greater  service  to  place  souls  in  heaven  than  to  hvaj 
hwdea  in  the  earth  t  As  for  the  spiritual  works,  is  it 
not  a  work  the  merit  of  which  mav  be  compared  tc 
giving  counsel  to  the  simple,  correctmg  those  who  err, 
teachmg  the  ignorant,  forgiving  offences,  and  bearing 
injuries  ?  Ana  what  consolation  can  we  give  to  the 
sorrowful  of  this  world,  compfirable  to  that  which  our 
prayers  afford  to' those  poor  Sv?uls  which  are  under  the 
pressure  of  so  heavy  an  affliction  f 

**  His  opinion,  however,  was,  that  we  might  draw 
more  consolation  than  terror  from  the  thoughts  of  pur- 
gatory. '  Most  of  those,'  he  said,  *  who  so  much  dread 
puivatory,  dread  it  from  interested  motives,  and  from 
the  love  they  bear  themselves,  more  than  from  regard 
to  the  interests  of  Gkxl ;  and  this  comes  from  the  practice 
of  preachers  who  generally  dwell  uwm  the  simerings 
enaured  Uiere,  ramer  than  upon  tne  happiness  and 
peace  of  the  siiffering  souls.  It  is  true  that  their  pains 
are  so  great,  that  the  most  excruciating  toiments  of  this 
life  are  not  to  be  compared  to  them ;  but  at  the  same 
time  the  inward  consolations  they  enjoy  are  also  so  great, 
that  no  prosperity  or  earthly  enjoyment  can  equal  it. 
1.  The  souls  enjo]^  an  abiding;  union  with  God.  2,  They 
are  perfectly  resigned  to  the  Divine  Will,  or  rather, 
their  will  is  so  entirely  transformed  into  tbat  of  God, 
that  they  can  only  will  what  God  wills ;  so  that  were 
Paradise  thrown  open  to  them,  they  would  rather 
plunge  into  hell  than  appear  before  God  with  the  stains 
thqr  still  behold  upon  themselves.  3.  They  undergo 
a  loving^  and  voluntanr  purification,  bwause  such  is  the 
good  inll  of  God.  4.  They  desire  to  be  ?fhere  they 
are,  in  the  manner  which  is  pleasing  to  Go<L  and  for  as 
long  as  He  pleases.  6.  They  are  impeccable,  and  in- 
Mfmle  of  too  liMt  mawnmmt  of  impatitnoe  or  tbt 


a  singnlai 
le  heaTenl^ 
saints  and 
*  Is  it  not 
lan  tohvaj 
Forks,  is  it 
impared  to 
se  who  err, 
Qd  bearing 
;ive  to  the 
which  our 
I  under  the 

light  draw 

hte  of  pur- 

nuoh  dread 

I,  and  from 

roro  regard 

iie  practice 

sufferings 

piaeBs  and 

their  pains 

entsofthis 

the  same 

io  so  great, 

equal  it. 

2.  They 

or  rather, 

it  of  Ood, 

that  were 

Id  rather 

the  stains 

f  undergo 

uch  is  the 

ere  thej 

'  for  as 

and  in- 

•r  th« 


•T.  riUirOIS  DB  lALlf. 

jetit  ihade  of  Imperfection.  6.  They  love  GkMl  iMtter 
than  themselyes  or  any  other  thing,  with  a  perfect^ 
pfure,  and  disinterested  love.  7.  The^  are  comforted  by 
angels.  8.  Thev  are  secure  of  their  salvation,  ia  th# 
possession  of  a  hope  whose  expectation  cannot  be  con* 
founded.  9.  Their  exceeding  bitterness  is  accompanied 
with  a  profound  peace.  10.  If  as  respects  pain  it  is  a 
species  of  hell,  it  is  a  heaven  as  respects  the  sweetness 
which  charity  diffuses  in  their  hearts ;  a  chanty  stronger 
than  death  and  more  powerful  than  hell,  whose  lamps 
are  fire  and  flames.  11.  Happy  state,  more  to  be  de- 
sired than  dreaded,  since  its  flames  are  flames  of  love 
and  charity.  12.  Terrible,  nevertheless,  since  they  de- 
lay the  soul's  ultimate  consummation,  which  consists  in 
seeing  Gkxl  and  loving  Him;  and  seeing  and  lovi^ 
Him,  to  praise  and  glorify  Him  for  all  eternity.'  m 
recommended  strongly  on  this  subject  the  admirable 
treatise  on  puriratory  of  the  blessed  Catherine  of  Genoa. 
I  often  read  and  re-re<ul  it  by  his  advice  attentively, 
and  always  witu  u  new  relish  and  fresh  light;  and  I 
must  own  that  I  never  read  aLy  thine  which  satisfied 
me  so  thoroughly.  I  even  recommended  it  to  some  Pro- 
testants, who  were  much  pleased  with  it;  and  one  learned 
man,  in  particular,  told  me  that  had  this  treatise  been 
placed  in  his  hands  before  his  conversion,  he  should 
nave  been  more  moved  by  it  than  by  all  the  arguments 
he  had  heard  upon  the  subject. 

**  But  if  this  be  so,  it  is  said,  why  be  so  desirous 
to  assist  the  souls  in  purgatory?  Because,  notwith- 
standing these  advantages,  the  state  of  these  souls  is 
one  of  great  affliction,  and  truly  worthy  of  our  com- 
passion ;  besides  which,  it  is  because  the  glory  they  will 
give  to  Qod  in  heaven  is  retarded.  These  two  motives 
ought  to  stir  us  u^  '  o  obtain  for  them  a  speedy  release 
by  our  prayers,  our  fasis,  our  alms,  and  every  kind  of 
good  work,  but  particularly  by  offering  for  them  ths 
Holy  Sacrifice  of^the  Mass. 

*'  He  advised  the  persons  who  consulted  him  to  jein 
•1  ibM  ooufrmtamities  of  the  plaoM  in  whioh  thaj  inai 


"1 


n,  rmAWOit  urn  ialm. 


"^  if 


ilMmMifM,  in  ordtr  to  participate  in  all  the  gmi  worki 
performed  bj  them.  He  re-asrared  them  &^  to  the 
mittaken  fear  they  entertahied  of  similng,  if  they  did 
not  acquit  themselves  of  certain  practices  which  are 
rather  recommended  than  commanded  by  the  rules  ol 
these  confraternities.  '  For/  said  he,  '  if  some  of  the 
mlei  of  religious  orders  do  not  bind  under  pain  of 
mortal  or  even  of  Tenial  sin,  how  much  less  the  statutes 
of  confraternities  f  What  is  recommended  to  the  mem* 
bers  of  them  is  of  counsel,  not  of  precept.  There  are  in- 
dulgences for  those  who  perform  them,  which  those 
who  neglect  them  lose ;  but  this  loss  is  altogether  ex* 
empt  from  sin.  There  is  much  to  gain,  and  nothing  to 
lose.'  He  wondered  at  so  few  persons  joining  them. 
He  attributed  it  to  two  causes.  Some  refram  from 
scrupulosity,  fearing  to  take  upon  themselyes  a  yoke 
tHey  could  not  bear ;  others,  from  want  of  piety,  looking 
■pon  those  who  joined  them  as  hypocrites. 

**  It  was  one  of  his  maadms,  that  great  fideUty  towards 
God  W('^  :baplayed  in  fidelity  in  litue  things.  *  He  who 
is  er!oaf>.7'ii  al  of  pence  ana  farthings,'  he  said,  'how 
mmk  more  so  will  he  be  of  crowns  and  pistoles  I'  And 
what  h?  'taught  he  practised  carefully,  for  he  was  the 
most  punctual  num  tLat  was  oyer  seen.  Not  only  in 
the  celebration  of  the  services  of  the  Church,  at  the 
altar,  and  in  chour,  but  also  when  he  said  his  office 
in  private,  he  observed  the  minutest  ceremonies  ac- 
curately Ukd  faithfully.  He  followed  the  same  rule 
in  his  demonstrations  of  civility ;  he  never  omitted  any 
tiling.  One  day  that  I  eom^ained  to  him  of  his  show- 
ing me  too  much  honour,  'What  account  do  you  take/ 
he  replied,  *  of  Jesus  Christ,  whom  I  honour  in  your 
person  r  Above  all  he  recommended  me  to  study  the 
Pontifioale.  '  It  is  for  the  nastors/  he  said,  *  who  are 
the  salt  of  the  earth  toad  the  light  of  the  world,  to  show 
themselves  patterns  in  all  things.'  He  had  often  in  ids 
mouth  that  admirablo  sayinf  of  St  Paul,  Ltt  aU  tkmf§ 
ht  dans  dtctniljf  mtd  aoeoramg  U  ordtrj** 

•  1  Cor.  siv.  4ft 


•T.  VBAirOIS  DB  SALIt. 

We  Mnnot  better  oonolude  than  with  a  referenoe  to 
Us  &Toarite  exercise  of  the  presence  of  God,  and  to 
tho  abtmdanoe  of  consolations  with  which  this  eminent 
dtant  was  fayoured. 

**  He  set  such  a  hiah  value  on  the  exercise  of  the 
presenoe  of  Ood,  that  he  recommended  it  as  our  dadly 
Dread.  I  say  daily  brea/'  because,  as  in  feeding  our 
bodies  we  a^  bread  t  >ur  other  viands,  so  tJso  is 

there  no  spiritual  c  h  combines  more  con- 

veniently and  profitab  .  our  actions  than  th&t 

of  the  jnesence  of  Goo  ^L,  he  exclaimed, '  this  is 
the  debg^htful  exercise  of  the  blessed,  or  rather  the  per- 
petual exercise  of  their  beatitude,  according  to  those 
words  of  our  Lord,  7%eir  cmgeU  always  tee  thejace  of 
My  Father  who  it  in  heaven.*  For  if  the  Queen  of 
Saba  considered  the  servants  and  courtiers  of  Solomon 
as  very  happy  from  being  always  in  his  presence, 
listening  to  the  words  of  wisdom  which  fc^  from  his 
lipe,  how  mrch  greater  is  the  happiness  of  those  who 
are  continually  attentive  to  the  holy  presence  of  Him 
vn  whom  the  angelt  denre  to  looky\  although  thef  con- 
iniudly  behold  Him !  a  desire  which  keeps  up  in  them 
a  perpetual  hunger  to  behold  more  and  more  Him 
whom  they  contemplate ;  for  the  more  they  behold  Him 
jrhom  they  desire,  the  more  they  desire  to  behold  Him, 
never  becoming  satiated  with  their  continual  satiety.' 
Our  S&int  believed  that  the  majority  of  the  failings  in 
their  dulTi  of  which  pious  persons  are  guilty,  proceed 
from  their  not  keepin^r  themselves  sufficiently  in  the 
presence  of  Gk>d." 

The  following  confession  abundentlv  proves  that  in 
that  holy  presence  he  found  the  life  ot  his  life  and  an 
antidpatea  Paradise. 

'' '  If  you  knew,*  he  said  one  day  to  an  intimate 
friend,  '  how  God  treats  my  heart,  you  would  thank 
His  goodness  for  it,  and  beseech  Him  to  give  me  the 
roirit  of  counsel  and  of  fortitude  to  execute  the  inspira- 
fewni  of  wisdom  and  of  understandmg  that  He  gives 
•  lUtt.  zvitt.  la  t  1  F«t.  L  It. 


^ 


mim 


'^i:l 


M. 


[.»  Si 


'r;!i*  M 


,'•    11 


'' 


«T.  VKAjroit  vm  lALia. 

me/  He  frequently  said  the  same  thinr  to  mjsell 
though  in  other  words.  '  0,  how  good/  ne  tzdiumed 
sometimes^  *  is  the  Ood  of  Israel  to  them  that  are  of  a 
ri|^ht  heaiiy  since  He  is  so  to  those  who  hare  suoh  a 
miserahle  one  as  I  have,  which  gives  so  little  heed  to 
Hkigraoe  and  is  so hent  down  to  earch I  0, how  sweet 
is  His  spirit  to  the  souls  that  love  Him,  and  who  seek 
Him  with  all  their  power !  Truly  His  name  it  at  oil 
povred  out.  There  is  no  need  to  wonder  if  many 
courapfeous  hearts  foUow  Him  with  so  much  devotion, 
that  IS,  run  with  such  swiftness  and  delight  after  the 
odour  of  Hit  oerfitmet,  0,  what  great  things  does  the 
unction  of  Gk>a  teach  us ;  and  that  with  so  sweet  a  light, 
that  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  discern  whether  the  sweet- 
ness  is  more  agreeahle  than  the  light,  or  the  liffht  than 
the  sweetness !  I  tremble,  however,  from  fear  Tett  OoC 
should  be  giving  me  my  paradise  in  this  world.  1  ao 
not  really  Know  what  adVers.ity  3S.  I  never  saw  tfat 
face  of  poverty.  The  pains  J  have  suffered  have  been 
no  more  than  scratches,  wliich  have  only  ruffled  the  skin. 
Galunmies  are  crosses  formed  of  wind,  whose  memory 
perishes  with  iha  sound.  It  is  little  to  have  beoi  fi-ee 
from  afflictions,  but  I  am  also  gxtysd  wfth  temporal 
and  spiritual  goods ;  I  am  up  to  my  eves  in  IbuBO ;  a&d 
in  the  midst  of  it  all  I  remain  insensible  and  ungrateful. 
0,  I  beg  of  you,  help  me  sometimes  to  thank  Gk>d, 
and  to  beseech  Him  that  I  may  not  eat  my  choice 
morsel  (literally,  white  bread)  first  I  He  well  knows  my 
frailty  and  my  weakness,  and  therefore  He  treats  me 
as  a  child,  giving  me  sweet  things  alonv  with  milk 
instead  of  more  solid  food.  When  will  He  give  me 
grace,  after  having  enjoyed  so  much  of  His  favour,  to 
Mffh  for  a  little  under  {he  cross?  since  to  reign  with 
Wm  we  must  suffer  ¥nth  Him.  We  must  indeol  either 
bve  Him  or  die ;  ov  rather,  we  must  love  Him  in  order 
to  die,  that  is,  we  must  die  to  all  other  love  to  live  for 
His  love  alone,  and  to  live  for  Him  alone  who  died  that 
we  might  live  an  eternal  life  in  the  arms  of  His  love. 
0  whit  a  bli!HBsed  thmg  it  is  to  live  in  God  edj,  It 


fT.  FAANCIl  ]»■  f ALIt. 


90r 


hhmat  for  Qod  only,  and  to  raioioe  only  In  God 
HflDoeforward,  with  the  help  of  Qod'i  gnuML  no  oo 
■hull  have  any  hold  upon  me,  and  no  one  ihall  he  an^ 
thmg^  to  me,  save  in  God  and  fcr  God  only.    I  hope  *' 
airive  at  thia  when  I  shall  hare  heen  truly  humhle^ 
before  Him.    Live,  God !  it  leems  to  me  that  all  it  af 
nothing  to  me  save  in  God,  in  whom  and  for  whom 
love  souls  with  the  ^preater  tenderness.    0,  when  wi] 
this  natural  love  of  kindred,  of  worldly  proprieties  an( 
considerations,  of  correspondence,  of  sympatnies,  and  o 
graces,  be  purified  and  reduced  to  the  perfect  obedienci 
of  pure  love,  and  of  the  good  pleasure  of  G<  d?   When 
shful  this  self-love  no  longer  sigh  after  s<  tisible  pre* 
sence,  proofs  of  affection,  and  external  demonstrationi^ 
Dut  remain  fully  satisfied  with  the  unvarying  and  im« 
mutable  assurance  that  God  abideth  for  ever?    What 
can  presence  add  to  a  love  which  God  has  made,  and 
whicn  He  sustains  and  preserves?    What  maru  of 
perseverance  can  one  require  in  a  state  of  unity  which 
Ib  God's  work?    Presence  or  distance  will  make  no 
change  in  the  solidity  of  a  love  which  Qod  Himself  haf 
formed.' 

**  I  confess,"  adds  the  gooa  Bishop,  "  that  mi 
heart,  when  listexiinff  to  all  these  words  man  the  mouti 
of  our  Saint,  bumea  within  me,  like  the  hearts  of  the 
disciples  going  to  ihnmaus ;  for  was  not  this  indeed  to 
flmg'  coals  of  fire  into  my  face  ?  0,  when  shall  the 
time  come  when  in  heaven  we  shall  love  unohangmb^ 
and  without  intcrmiflsion  Him  who  baa  loved  us  witfe 
an  everlasting  love,  and  who  has  drr^rn  na  to  Uis  lovt 
tuKVUg  oompAiiion  upon  us  !'* 


IHB  jah 


